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THE    LITTLE  VANITIES   OF 
MRS.  WHITTAKER 


THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 
MRS.  WHITTAKER 


B  novel 


BY 

JOHX  STRAXGE  WINTER 


AUTHOR  OF 


Booties'  Baby,''    "The  Truth- Tellers,"    "^  Blaze  of  Glory,' 

''Marty,"  ''Little  Joan,"  "Cherry's  Child," 

"A  Blameless  Woman,"  etc. 


FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  AXD  LONDON 
1904 


Copyright,  1904,  by 

FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY 

[  Published,  June,  1904  ] 


c        « 

«'   *     • 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Kegina   Brown 9 

II.  Mes.  Alfred  Whittaker 17 

III.  Ye  Dene 26 

lY.  Skating  on  Thin  Ice 35 

V.  The  S.  R.  W 45 

VI.  Eegina's  Views 54 

VII.  "Little  Piglets  of  English"       ...  64 

VIII.  Candid  Opinions "3 

IX.  The  Girls'  Domain 83 

X.  A  Weighty  Business 92 

XI.  Ambitions 1^1 

XII.  TwoPENN-i'  Dinners HO 

XIII.  Details 119 

XIV.  DiAMONT)  Earrings 127 

XV.  A  Golden  Day 136 

XVI.  Other  Gods 1^ 

XVII.  Regina  Comes  to  a  Conclusion     .        .        .  152 

XVIII.  The  First  Little  Vanities        .        .        .        .160 

XIX.  Broken-Hearted  Miranda    ....  168 

XX.  Family  Criticis3i 1~6 

XXI.   Dear  Dieppe 183 

XXII.  Eegina  on  the  Warpath             ....  190 

XXIII.  The  Dressing-Room 198 

XXIV.  RuMOE 208 


V 


51 


4249 


vi  THE  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXV.  Poor  Mother          .        .        .        .        .        .        216 

XXVI.  The  Straight  and  Narrow  Path     .        .        .    224 

XXVII.   Round  Everywhere 233 

XXVIII.  A  Rejuvenated  Regina           ....        241 

XXIX.   Wary  and  Patient 247 

XXX.   Daddy's  Heart 255 

XXXI.  Regina  Sets  Foot  on  the  Down  Grade  .        .    263 

XXXII.    Wise  Julia .270 

XXXIII.  Grasp  Your  Nettle 277 

XXXIV.  A  Trenchant  Question  .        .        .        .        .        284 
XXXV.  The  End  of  it  All    .        .        .        .        .        .292 


THE   LITTLE   VANITIES  OF 
MRS.  WHITTAKER 


•»  » 


The   Little  Vanities   of 
Mrs,   Whittaker 


CHAPTER   I 

REGINA    BROWN 
There  are  many  who  think  that  the  unfamiliar  is  best. 

To  begin  my  story  properly,  I  must  go  back  to  the 
time  when  the  Empress  Eugenie  had  not  started  the 
vogue  of  the  crinoline,  when  the  Indian  Mutiny  had 
not  stained  the  pages  of  history,  and  the  Crimean 
War  was  as  yet  but  a  cloud  the  size  of  a  man's  hand 
on  the  horizon  of  the  world — that  is  to  say,  to  the 
very  early  fifties. 

It  was  then  that  a  little  girl-child  was  born  into  the 
world,  a  little  girl  who  was  called  by  the  name  of 
Regina,  and  whose  father  and  mother  bore  the  homely 
appellation  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brown;  yes,  plain,  sim- 
ple and  homely  Brown,  without  even  so  much  as  an 
* '  e  "  placed  at  the  tail  thereof  to  give  it  a  distinction 
from  all  the  other  Browns. 
A  9 


10  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

So  far  as,  I,  liave  we-i*:  heard,  the  young  childhood 
of  Regina  Brown  was  passed  in  quite  an  ordinary  and 
conventionai  atmosphere.  ;  Her  parents  were  well- 
meaning,  honest,  kindly,  well-disposed,  middle-class 
persons.  According  to  their  lights  they  educated 
their  daughter  extremely  well ;  that  is  to  say,  she  was 
sent  to  a  genteel  seminary,  she  was  always  nicely 
dressed,  and  she  wore  her  hair  in  ringlets. 

This  state  of  things  continued,  without  any  particu- 
lar change,  until  Regina  was  nearly  twenty  years  old. 
By  that  time  the  great  Franco-Prussian  War  had 
beaten  itself  into  peace,  the  horrors  of  the  Commune 
of  Paris  had  come  and  gone,  and  the  sun  of  Regina 
Brown's  twentieth  birthday  rose  upon  a  world  in 
which  nations  had  come  once  more,  at  least  to  outward 
seeming,  to  the  conclusion  that  all  men  are  brothers. 
It  might  have  been  some  long-forgotten  echo  from  the 
early  days  when  France  and  England  fought  against 
Russia,  or  it  might  have  been  in  a  measure  owing  to 
the  conflict,  so  long,  so  deadly  and  so  bloody,  between 
France  and  Germany,  but  certain  is  it  that,  when 
Regina  Brown  realized  that  she  was  twenty  years  old, 
she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  was  leading  a 
wasted  life. 

If  the  period  in  which  she  lived  had  been  that  of 
to-day,  I  think  Regina  Brown  would  have  entered 
herself  at  any  hospital  that  would  have  accepted  her 
and  would  have  trained  for  a  nurse ;  but,  in  the  early 
seventies,  nursing  was  not,  as  now,  the  almost  regu- 
lation answer  to  the  question,  *'  What  shall  we  do 
with  our  girls?  " 

* '  What  shall  I  do  with  my  life  ?  '  *  she  said,  looking 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  11 

in  the  modest  little  glass  which  swung  above  her 
toilet-table.  ''  What  shall  I  do  with  my  life?  Live 
here,  pandering  to  my  father  and  mother,  listening  to 
my  father's  accounts  of  how  some  man  at  the  club 
wagered  a  shilling  on  a  matter  which  could  make  no 
difference  to  anyone;  hearing  mother's  elaborate 
account  of  the  delinquencies  of  Charlotte  Ann,  who 
really  is  not  such  a  bad  girl,  after  all.  I  can't  go  on 
like  this — I  can't  bear  it  any  longer.  It's  a  waste  of 
life ;  it 's  a  waste  of  a  strong,  capable,  original  brain. 
I  must  get  out  into  the  world  and  do  something. 

In  the  course  of  life  one  comes  across  so  many 
people  who  are  always  yearning  to  go  out  into  the 
world  and  do  something,  but  Regina  Brown  was  not 
a  young  woman  who  could  or  would  content  herself 
with  mere  yearning.  With  her  to  think  was  to  do. 
With  her  a  resolve  was  a  fact  practically  accom- 
plished. 

' '  1  will  go  in  for  the  higher  education, ' '  she  said  to 
herself.  "  What  do  I  know  now?  I  can  dance  a 
little,  play  a  little,  paint  a  little.  I  know  no  useful 
things.  My  mother  sews  my  clothes  and  makes  my 
under-linen ;  my  mother  orders  the  dinner,  and  never 
will  entrust  the  making  of  the  pastry  to  any  hand  but 
her  own.  What  is  there  left  for  me?  Nothing!  I 
must  go  out  into  the  world.  There  is  only  one  line  in 
which  I  am  likely  to  make  success,  and  I  am  not  the 
class  of  woman  who  makes  for  failure.  I  will  become 
a  great  teacher.  To  become  a  great  teacher,  I  must 
qualify  myself.  I  must  work,  and  work  hard.  I 
must  enter  at  some  regular  school  of  learning,  or, 


12  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

failing  that,  I  must  find  a  first-class  tutor  to  work 
with  me. ' ' 

Eventually  Regina  Brown  adopted  the  latter 
course.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  was  not  sufficiently^ 
advanced  in  any  branch  of  education  to  enter  at  any 
school  of  learning  which  admitted  women  to  its  cur- 
riculum. To  Regina  it  mattered  little  or  nothing. 
For  the  next  ten  years  she  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of 
hard  learning.  She  proved  herself  a  worker  of  no 
mean  ability.  She  passed  all  manner  of  examina- 
tions, she  took  numberless  degrees,  and  on  the  day  on 
which  she  was  thirty  years  old,  she  found  herself  once 
more  gazing  at  her  face  in  the  glass  and  wondering 
what  she  was  going  to  do  with  the  knowledge  that  she 
had  so  laboriously  acquired. 

' '  Regina  Brown, ' '  she  said  to  herself,  '  *  you  are  no 
nearer  to  becoming  a  great  teacher  than  you  were  ten 
years  ago  this  very  day.  Will  anyone  ever  put  you 
in  charge  of  a  high  school?  Will  anyone  give  you  a 
responsible  post  in  any  of  the  spheres  where  women 
can  prove  that  they  are  the  equals,  and  more  than  the 
equals,  of  men?  It  is  very  doubtful.  You  know 
much,  but  you  have  no  influence.  Ten  years  ago 
to-day,  Regina  Brown,  you  told  yourself  that  your 
mode  of  existence  was  a  waste  of  life.  Well,  you  are 
wasting  your  life  still.  The  best  thing  you  can  do, 
Regina  Brown,  is  to  get  yourself  married." 

So  Regina  Brown  got  herself  married. 

Now,  to  put  such  an  action  in  those  words  is  not  a 
romantic  way  of  describing  the  most — or  what  should 
be  the  most — romantic  episode  of  a  woman 's  life ;  but 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  13 

I  use  Regina's  own  words,  and  I  say  that  she  got 
herself  married. 

She  was  not  wholly  unattractive.  She  had  a  pinky 
skin  and  frank  grey  eyes,  but  her  figure  was  of  the 
pincushion  order,  and  much  study  had  done  away 
with  that  lissomness  which  is  one  of  the  most  attract- 
ive attributes  of  womenkind.  Her  hands  were  white, 
strong,  determined;  white  because  they  were  mostly 
occupied  about  books  and  papers,  strong  because  she 
herself  was  strong,  and  determined  because  it  was  her 
nature  to  be  so.  Her  feet,  frankly  speaking,  were 
large.  She  was  a  young  woman  who  sat  solidly  on  a 
solid  chair,  and  looked  thoroughly  in  place.  Her  fea- 
tures otherwise  were  neither  bad  nor  good,  and  I 
think  she  was  probably  one  of  the  worst  dressers  that 
the  world  has  ever  seen.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing 
for  Regina  Brown  to  wear  a  salmon-pink  ribbon 
twisted  about  her  ample  waist  and  to  crown  her  toilet 
with  a  covering  of  turquoise  blue. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Regina  received  a  valen- 
tine—the first  in  her  life.  She  held  it  sacred  from 
any  eye  but  her  own,  in  fact  she  put  it  into  the  fire 
before  any  of  the  family  had  time  to  see  it.  The 
words  ran  thus : — 

"  Regina  Brown,  Regina  Bro\vii, 
You  think  yourself  a  beauty; 

In  pink  and  green 

And  yellow  sheen 
You  go  to  do  your  duty. 

Regina  Brown,  Regina  Brown, 
Whenever  will  you  learn 


14  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

That  pink  and  green 
And  golden  sheen 
Are  colors  you  should  spurn? 

Regina  Brown,  Regina  Brown, 
Take  lesson  from  the  lily, 

A  lesson  meek, 

Not  far  to  seek, 
'Twill  keep  you  from  being  silly!  " 

I  cannot  truthfully  say  that  the  valentine  did 
Regina  the  smallest  amount  of  good.  You  know,  my 
gentle  reader,  if  we  only  look  at  things  the  right  way, 
we  can  find  good  in  everything.  As  some  poet  has 
beautifully  put  it  in  a  couplet  about  sermons  in  stones 
and  running  brooks — '^  And  good  in  everything," 
Regina  might  even  have  found  good  out  of  that  mali- 
cious and  spiteful  valentine  with  its  excellent  like- 
ness, done  in  water  colors,  of  herself  clad  in  weird 
and  wonderful  garments,  the  like  of  which  even  she 
had  never  attempted.  But  Regina  consigned  it  to  the 
flames,  and  went  on  her  way  precisely  as  she  had  done 
before,  for  Regina  was  a  woman  of  strong  nature  and 
settled  convictions.  I  give  you  this  piece  of  informa- 
tion because  you  will  find  by  the  story  which  I  shall 
tell  and  you  will  read,  that  this  curious  dominance  of 
nature  proved  to  be  one  of  the  mainsprings  of  this 
remarkable  character. 

So  Regina  went  on  her  way  and  she  got  married. 
I  don't  say  that  it  was  a  brilliant  alliance — by  no 
means.  The  man  was  young,  younger  than  Regina. 
He  was  weak-looking  and  pretty,  of  a  pink-and-white, 
wax-doll  type,  with  shining  fair  hair  and  rather 
watery  blue  eyes.     To  his  weakness  Regina 's  domi- 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  15 

nant  nature  strongly  appealed ;  perhaps,  also,  in  some 
measure  the  fact  that  she  was  the  sole  child  of  her 
father's  house,  and  that  her  father  lived  upon  his 
means,  and  described  himself  as  ''  gentleman  "  in  the 
various  papers  connected  with  the  politics  of  his  coun- 
try which  from  time  to  time  reached  him.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  an  engagement  came  about  between  Regina 
Brown  and  this  young  man,  who  was  "  something  in 
the  city  "  and  who  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  Alfred 
Whittaker. 

I  must  confess  that  it  was  somewhat  of  a  shock  to 
Regina  when  she  found  that  among  his  fellows — 
young,  vapid,  rather  raffish  young  men — he  was 
known  by  the  abbreviative  of  "Alf. " 

'*  Dearest,"  she  said  to  him  one  day,  after  this 
unpalatable  information  had  come  to  her,  "  I  noticed 
that  your  friend,  Mr.  Fitzsimmons,  called  you  *  Alf  ' 
last  night." 

"Yes,  the  fellows  mostly  do,"  he  replied. 

''  But  you  were  not  called  Alf  at  home,  dearest," 
said  Regina. 

She  laid  her  substantial  hand  upon  his  arm  and 
looked  at  him  yearningly. 

"'  My  mother  and  my  sisters  always  called  me 
Alfie,"  said  he,  returning  the  gaze  with  interest,  for 
he  admired  Regina  with  an  admiration  which  was 
wholly  genuine. 

"  I  really  couldn't  call  you  Alfie,"  she  said. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  couldn't,  Regina,"  he  re- 
plied. "  It  seems  to  me  such  an  awful  thing  for 
people  who  love  one  another  to  be  saying  'Regina'  and 
'  Alfred.'      There   is   something   so   chilly   about   it. 


16  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

Did  your  people  never  call  you  by  a  pet  name?" 

"  Never,"  said  Regina. 

*'I  should  like  to,"  said  Alfred,  still  more  yearn- 
ingly. 

*'  If  you  can  think  of  a  pet  name  that  will  not  be 
derogatory  to  my  dignity — ' '  Regina  began,  when  the 
weak  and  weedy  Alfred  insinuated  an  arm  about  her 
ample  waist  and  drew  her  nearer  to  him. 

Without  some  effort  on  the  part  of  Regina  Brown, 
I  doubt  if  his  intention  could  have  been  carried  into 
effect,  but  Regina  yielded  herself  to  his  tenderness 
with  a  shy  coyness  which  was  sufficiently  marked  to 
have  merited  even  the  pet  name  of  Tiny. 

''  What  would  you  like  me  to  call  you — Alfred?  " 
she  asked,  with  the  faintest  possible  pause  before  the 
last  word. 

**  Call  me  Alfie,"  said  he  in  manly  and  imperative 
tones. 

' '  Dear  Alfie !  ' '  said  Regina. 

''  Darling!  "  said  Alfie. 

^'You  couldn't  call  me  darling  as  a  name,"  said 
Regina,  coyly. 

"  I  shall  always  call  you  darling,"  he  gurgled. 
* '  But  I  should  like,  as  a  name,  to  call  you  Queenie. ' ' 

'^  You  shall  call  me  Anna  Maria  Stubbs  if  you 
like,"  said  Regina,  with  a  sudden  surrender  of  her 
dignity. 

And  forthwith,  from  that  moment,  between  them- 
selves she  was  known  no  longer  by  her  real  name, 
but  sank  into  a  state  of  hopeless  adoration,  and  was 
called  Queenie. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  17 


CHAPTER    II 


MRS.    ALFRED   WHITTAKER 


It  is  curious  how  the  possession  of  humble  things  satisfies  the 
souls  of  naturally  ambitious  people. 

In  due  course  Regina  Brown  merged  her  identity 
into  that  of  Mrs.  Alfred  Whittaker. 

They  were  not  married  in  a  hurry.  Regina  had 
come  of  old-fashioned  people,  who  held  firmly  to  the 
belief  that  courting  time  is  the  sweetest  of  a  woman's 
life ;  that  it  is  good  for  man  to  look  and  long  for  the 
woman  of  his  heart,  and  for  woman  to  be  coy  and  to 
hold  him  who  will  eventually  become  her  liege  lord 
at  arm's  length  for  a  suitable  period.  To  people  of 
the  Brown,  and  indeed  of  the  Whittaker  class,  there 
is  something  in  a  short  engagement  and  a  hurried-on 
marriage  which  borders  almost  upon  immodesty. 

*'  We  won't  be  engaged  very  long,"  said  Alfred, 
when  he  had  been  made  the  happiest  man  in  the  world 
for  nearly  six  weeks. 

''  No,  not  long,"  returned  Regina.  "  My  father 
and  mother  were  engaged  for  seven  years. ' ' 

''  Good  God!  "  exclaimed  Alfred,  who  was  some- 
what given  to  strong  language,  as  many  weak  men  are. 
2 


18  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

**  Good    God,    Regina,    you   have   taken   my   breath 
away!  " 

' '  I  wasn  't  proposing  to  be  engaged  to  you  for  seven 
years,  Alfie  dear,"  she  said  to  him,  with  an  indulgent 
air.  "  Oh  no.  I  always  thought  that  father  and 
mother  made  such  a  mistake,  although  you  couldn't 
get  mother  to  own  it. ' ' 

'*  I  should  think  so,  indeed.  Seven  years!  Seven 
months  is  nearer  my  idea  of  the  proper  time  for  being 
engaged. ' ' 

'^  Seven  months?  Oh,  that  would  be  too  soon.  I 
couldn't  possibly  get  my  things  ready." 

''  Oh,  things/^  said  he,  with  a  manly  disregard  of 
chiffons  which  appealed  to  Regina  as  nothing  else 
would  have  done. 

' '  I  must  have  things,  Alfie. ' ' 

"  Yes,  darling,  I  know  you  must.  And  I  don't  say 
that  a  good  start-out  wouldn't  be  very  useful  to  us; 
but  you  won't  spin  it  out  too  long,  will  you?  " 

^'  I  never  was  brought  up  to  sew,"  said  Regina, 
"  I  am  learning  now." 

* '  Can 't  you  buy  'em  ready-made  ?  '  ^ 

"  They  don't  last,"  said  Regina.  *'  And  mother's 
idea  of  the  trousseau  is  to  give  me  three  dozen  of 
everything.  And  they've  all  got  to  be  made.  I'm 
sewing  white  seams  now,  although  I  can 't  cut  out  and 
plan.     Look  at  my  finger. ' ' 

He  possessed  himself  of  the  firm,  strong,  first  finger 
of  his  fiancee's  left  hand  and  kissed  it  rapturously. 
''Poor  little  finger,"  said  he,  "poor  dear  little  finger! 
Can't  you  have  people  in  to  do  the  things?" 

I    am    afraid    that    would    go    against    mother's 


if 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  19 

ideas,"  Regina  returned,  "  but  I'll  sound  her  on  tlie 
point. ' ' 

Eventually  Regina  Brown's  three  dozen  of  every- 
thing were  got  together,  neatly  folded,  and  tied  up 
in  half-dozens  with  delicate  shades  of  ribbon,  and 
the  wedding  day  was  fixed  to  take  place  just  fourteen 
months  after  the  engagement  had  come  about. 

The  bride's  parents  came  down  handsomely  on  the 
occasion.  It  was  a  great  event,  that  wedding.  Eight 
bridesmaids,  four  in  pink  and  four  in  blue,  followed 
Regina  to  the  altar.  Regina  herself  was  dressed  as 
a  bride  in  a  shiny  white  silk,  with  a  voluminous  veil. 
There  was  a  large  company,  and  much  flying  to  and 
fro  of  hired  carriages — mostly  with  white  horses — 
distributing  of  favors,  and  a  popping  of  champagne 
corks,  when  all  was  over  and  the  two  had  been  made 
man  and  wife.  And  then  there  was  a  heart-broken 
parting,  when  Regina  was  torn  away  from  the  ample 
bosom  of  her  adoring  mother,  and  a  wild  shower  of 
rice  and  satin  slippers,  such  as  strewed  the  road  be- 
fore the  Brown  domicile  for  many  days  after  the 
wedding  was  over. 

So  Regina  Brown  became  Mrs.  Alfred  Whittaker, 
and  her  place  in  her  father's  house  knew  her  no 
more. 

All  things  considered,  she  made  an  admirable  wife. 
If  Alfred  adored  Regina,  Regina  worshipped  Alfred, 
and  under  her  care,  and  in  the  sunshine  of  her  lavish 
and  outspoken  admiration  of  his  personal  beauty,  he 
grew  sleek  and  prosperous. 

If  only  a  son  had  been  born  to  them,  a  little  son 
who  would  have  carried  on  the  traditions   of  both 


20  THE   LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

families,  who  could  have  been  called  Brown- Whitta- 
ker,  and  gladdened  the  hearts  of  three  separate  house- 
holds. But  no  son  came — never  a  sign  of  a  son.  On 
the  contrary,  about  a  year  after  their  marriage  a 
little  daughter  arrived  on  the  scene,  who  was  wel- 
comed as  a  precursor  of  the  unborn  Brown- Whit- 
taker,  and  was  named  Maud.  And  little  iVlaud  Whit- 
taker  grew  and  throve  apace,  went  through  the  usual 
early  infantile  troubles,  and,  about  two  years  later, 
the  process  which  is  known  among  domestic  people  as 
having  her  nose  put  out  of  joint. 

And  again  it  was  a  girl. 

For  some  reason  not  explained  to  the  whole  world, 
the  second  baby  was  christened  Julia,  and  forthwith 
became  a  very  important  item  in  the  world. 

''The  next  one  must  be  a  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Alfred 
Whittaker,  as  she  cuddled  the  new  arrival  to  her  side. 

But  there  never  was  a  next  one,  and  slowly,  as  the 
second  baby  got  through  her  troubles  and  began  to 
toddle  about  and  to  play  games  with  her  sister,  the 
truth  was  borne  in  upon  her  parents  that  what  Maud 
had  begun  Julia  had  finished — that  no  boy  would 
come  to  gladden  the  hearts  of  the  Whittaker  and 
Brown  households,  that  no  little  Brown- Whittaker 
would  ever  make  history. 

Well,  it  was  when  Julia  Whittaker  was  about  six 
years  old  that  her  mother 's  mind  underwent  a  curious 
change.  She  was  then  just  forty  years  old,  a  fine, 
buxom,  healthy  woman,  a  good  deal  given  to  looking 
upon  the  rest  of  the  world  with  a  superior  eye,  to 
feeling  that  whereas  the  other  married  ladies  of  her 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  21 

set  had  been  content  with  the  genteel  education  of  a 
private  seminary,  she  had  gone  further  and  had 
received  the  wide-minded  and  broad  education  of 
a  professional  man. 

It  was  true  enough.  There  was  no  subject  on 
which  Mrs.  Alfred  Whittaker  was  not  able  to  demon- 
strate an  exceedingly  pronounced  and  autocratic 
opinion.  She  seldom  wasted  her  time,  even  after 
her  marriage,  in  reading  what  she  called  trash,  and 
other  people  spoke  of  as  a  "circulating  library." 
Deep  thoughts  filled  her  mind,  great  questions  en- 
tranced her  interest,  and  high  views  dominated  her 
life.  She  was  keen  on  politics  of  the  most  Radical 
order.  She  had  sifted  religion,  and  found  it  wanting. 
She  was  an  advanced  Socialist — in  her  views,  that  is 
to  say — and  deep  down  in  her  heart,  although  as  yet 
it  had  never  found  expression,  was  an  innate  admira- 
tion of  men  and  an  equal  contempt  for  women.  She 
felt,  and  often  she  said,  that  she  had  a  man's  mind  in 
an  extremely  feminine  body. 

"I  cannot,"  she  declared  one  day,  when  discussing 
a  great  social  question  with  a  clever  friend  of 
Alfred's,  "shut  my  eyes  to  the  fact  that  I  do  not 
look  on  a  question  of  this  kind  as  an  ordinary  woman 
would.  An  ordinary  woman  jumps  to  conclusions 
without  knowing  why  or  wherefore.  I,  on  the  con- 
trary, have  a  clear  and  logical  mind,  which  gets  me 
perhaps  to  the  same  goal  by  a  clear  and  definite  proc- 
ess of  reasoning.  We  may  come  from  the  same,  and 
we  may  arrive  at  the  same,  and  yet  we  are  so 
different  that  neither  has  any  sympathy  with  the 
other." 


22  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

And  out  of  this  conversation  there  arose  in  Regina 
Whittaker's  mind  an  idea  that,  after  all,  another 
decade  had  gone  by,  and  she  was  still  wasting  her  life. 

''I  asked  myself  a  question  at  twenty,"  her 
thoughts  ran.  "I  asked  it  again  at  thirty,  and  now 
I  have  touched  my  fortieth  birthday,  here  I  am 
asking  it  yet  once  more.  I  have  fulfilled  the 
functions  of  wife  and  mother,  and  nothing  else.  Yet 
I  am  an  extraordinary  woman,  far  out  of  the  common 
in  intelligence,  brain  power,  logic,  and  in  all  mental 
attributes.  It  only  shows  me  that  the  time  is  not 
yet  ripe  for  woman  to  become  the  equal  of  man.  It 
is  not  the  fault  of  the  woman.  Through  many 
generations — nay,  hundreds  of  years — she  has  been 
kept  ignorant,  inefficient,  downtrodden  by  her  lord 
and  master.  She  has  been  used  as  a  toy,  and  her  one 
mission  in  life  has  been  a  mere  function  of  nature — 
the  reproduction  of  the  race.  It  makes  me  savage," 
she  went  on,  talking  to  herself,  * '  when  I  hear  it  cited 
as  an  immense  work  that  a  woman  has  produced  so 
many  babies.  How  many,  I  wonder,  have  produced 
those  babies  with  any  love  of  duty,  poor  feeble  souls  ? 
After  all,  there  is  so  little  duty  about  it,  and  no 
choice  midway.  Well,  here  am  I,  who  should  be  in  a 
big  position  in  the  world,  I  who  should  have  made 
myself  a  name,  I  who  could  have  put  George  Eliot 
and  all  her  set  in  the  shade.  I  have  absolutely 
wasted  my  life.  I  suppose  I  began  too  late.  I  am 
out  of  the  common,  but  I  do  not  rank  as  a  woman 
out  of  the  common.  Still,  I  have  daughters.  From 
this  moment  I  dedicate  my  life  to  my  little  Maud 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  23 

and  Julia.  They  shall  not  begin  their  mission  in  the 
world  too  late.  I  would  rather  have  been  the  mother 
of  boys,  but  as  I  have  proved  to  be  only  the  mother 
of  girls,  I  will  try  to  make  those  girls  what  I  have 
missed  being  myself.  They  shall  be  out  of  the 
common;  they  shall  belong  to  the  New  Womanhood; 
they  shall  be  brought  up  at  least  to  be  the  equals  of 
men. ' ' 

Now  by  this  time  the  ''something  in  the  city"  on 
which  Regina  and  Alfred  had  started  housekeeping 
had  resolved  itself  into  a  very  solid  and  prosperous 
position,  though  Alfred  Whittaker — make  no  mistake 
about  it — was  not,  and  was  never  likely  to  be,  a  mil- 
lionaire, or  even  a  very  wealthy  man.  But  he  was 
prosperous  in  a  comfortable,  assured,  middle-class 
way.  He  was  ambitious  too — I  mean  socially  ambi- 
tious— and  he  liked  to  feel  that  his  wife  was  in  a  good 
set  in  the  suburb  in  which  they  lived.  He  liked  to  go 
to  church  occasionally,  and  to  have  his  own  seat  when 
he  did  so.  He  liked  his  rector  to  come  to  him  as  an 
open-handed,  clean-living  man  on  w^hom  he  could  de- 
pend for  contributions  suitable  to  his  style  of  living. 
He  liked  to  be  able  to  take  his  wife  to  a  theatre,  and 
to  dine  her  beforehand,  and  to  give  her  a  bit  of  supper 
afterwards.  He  liked  to  go  to  the  seaside  for  August, 
and  to  take  a  trip  to  Paris  at  Easter  if  he  was  so  in- 
clined. And,  above  all  things,  Alfred  Whittaker 
liked  a  good  dinner,  a  pretty,  tasteful  table,  and  a 
neat  handmaiden  to  wait  upon  him.  To  do  him  jus- 
tice, he  never  lost  his  early  admiration  for  Regina. 
It  was  wonderful  that  he  had  not  done  so,  for  with 


24  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

her  improved  circumstances  and  her  improved 
position,  Eegina's  taste  in  dress  had  not  advanced. 
Sometimes,  on  a  birthday,  or  some  anniversary  kept 
religiously  by  them,  such  as  their  day  of  engagement, 
their  wedding  day,  the  day  on  which  they  first  met, 
the  day  on  which  they  moved  into  the  house  they 
occupied — such  domestic  altars  as  most  of  us  erect 
during  the  course  of  our  lives — he  would  bring  her 
home  a  present  of  a  bonnet.  He  called  it  a  bonnet, 
but  it  was  generally  a  hat.  Alfred  always  called  it 
a  bonnet  nevertheless,  and  Regina  invariably  ac- 
cepted it  with  blushes  of  admiration,  and  wore  it  with 
what,  in  another  woman,  would  have  been  the  courage 
of  a  martyr.  It  was  no  martyrdom  to  Regina.  I  have 
seen  her  with  all  her  fair  hair  turned  back  from  her 
large  face,  crowned  with  a  modiste's  edifice  which 
would  have  proved  trying  to  a  lovely  girl  of  eighteen. 

''You  like  my  hat?"  said  Regina,  one  day  to  a 
friend.  ''Isn't  it  lovely?  Dear  Alfie  brought  it  for 
me  from  town.  I  believe  he  sent  to  Paris  for  it.  It 
has  a  French  name  in  the  crown.  Much  more  ex- 
travagant than  I  should  have  got  for  myself — these 
white  feathers  won't  wear,  and  all  this  lovely  sky- 
blue  velvet  and  these  delicate  pearl  ornaments  are  far 
beyond  what  I  should  have  chosen  on  my  own  respon- 
sibility.   But  I  can 't  help  seeing  how  it  becomes  me. ' ' 

"Why  don't  you  have  a  waistcoat  of  the  same 
color — a  front,  you  know — this  part?"  asked  her 
friend,  making  a  line  from  her  throat  to  her  belt 
buckle. 

"There  is  a  sameness  about  the  idea,"  said  Regina, 
superbly.      "I   have    always    flattered    myself,    Mrs. 


MES.  WHITTAKER  25 

Marston,  that  I  am  one  of  the  few  women  who  can 
bear  to  mix  her  colors.  You  remember  the  old  story 
of  the  young  man  who  asked  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
what  he  mixed  his  colors  with,  and  his  reply — '  Brains, 
sir,  brains.'  " 


26  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF, 


CHAPTER   III 

YE   DENE 

i'liere  is  something  very  alluring  in  the  idea  of  kicking  down 
conventions,  yet  if  this  be  carried  too  far,  it  is  possible 
that  all  the  feminine  virtues  will  follow  suit.  A  woman 
bereft  of  all  the  feminine  virtues  is  as  pitiable  a  sight  as 
a  head  which  has  been  shorn  of  its  locks. 

A  COUPLE  of  years  went  by,  and  again  the  circum- 
stances of  the  Alfred  Whittakers  were  improved. 
For  the  old  lady  whose  husband  had  courted  her  for 
seven  long  years  was  taken  ill  and  quite  suddenly 
died.  Her  death  affected  and  upset  Regina  very 
much.  It  happened  that  she  had  not  been  over  to 
her  old  home  for  several  days,  though  Regina,  al- 
though she  was  such  a  good  wife,  had  continued  to 
be  also  an  extremely  good  daughter,  and  usually  con- 
trived to  visit  the  old  people  at  least  twice  a  week. 
Just  at  this  time,  however,  some  trifling  indisposition 
of  little  Julia's  had  kept  her  from  paying  her  usual 
visit  to  her  parents. 

"Here  is  a  letter  from  my  father,"  she  said  one 
morning  at  breakfast  to  Alfred.  "He  seems  to  think 
mother  is  not  very  well." 

"Oh,  poor  dear,  poor  dear.  You  had  better  go 
across  and  see  her." 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  27 

"Yes.  I  should  have  gone  yesterday  but  for  the 
child  not  being  quite  well,"  Regina  responded. 

"Anyway,  she's  all  right  to-day — well  enough  for 
you  to  leave  her  with  nurse.  You  had  better  go 
across  and  spend  the  day,  and  I'll  come  round  that 
way  and  fetch  you  home  in  the  evening. ' ' 

To  this  arrangement  Regina  agreed,  and  she  went 
over  to  her  father's  house  as  soon  as  she  had  con- 
cluded arrangements  for  the  children's  meals.  She 
did  not,  however,  return  to  Fairview — as  their  house 
was  called — that  evening  with  Alfred.  No,  she  re- 
mained under  the  paternal  roof  for  a  few  days,  and 
then,  when  she  at  length  returned  to  her  home  and 
her  children,  she  was  accompanied  by  the  old  man, 
who  was  as  a  ship  without  a  rudder  when  he  found 
himself  bereft  of  the  wife  for  whom  he  had  served, 
even  as  Jacob  served  seven  years  for  Rachel. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  end  for  old  Mr.  Brown. 
He  declined  absolutely  to  go  back  to  the  house  where 
he  had  lived  so  long  and  so  happily,  and  took  up  his 
permanent  abode  at  Fairview.  Very  soon  the  better 
part  of  the  furniture,  and  certain  priceless  possessions 
with  which  there  was  no  thought  of  parting,  were 
transferred  from  the  one  house  to  the  other,  the  old 
domicile  was  done  up  and  eventually  let,  and  then,  as 
so  often  happens  with  old  people  who  have  been  up- 
rooted from  their  regular  life,  Mr.  Brown  sank  into 
extreme  illness. 

Poor  man,  he  had  never  been  ill  in  his  life,  and  he 
took  to  it  badly.  One  paralytic  stroke  succeeded 
another,  and,  at  last,  after  a  few  months  of  much 
repining  and  wearing   suffering,   he   passed   quietly 


28  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

away,  his  last  words  being  that  he  was  going  to  rejoin 
his  dear  wife  on  the  other  side. 

It  was  then  that  the  Alfred  AA^hittakers  left  Fair- 
view. 

"I  shall  never  fancy  the  house  again  since  poor 
father's  death,"  said  Regina  on  the  evening  of  the 
funeral. 

"No,  I  can  quite  believe  that,"  returned  Alfred 
Whittaker,  sympathetically.  "Well,"  he  added  after 
a  pause,  "you  will  be  able  to  afford  a  larger  house  if 
you  want  it." 

"I  should  like  a  larger  garden,"  said  Regina.  "I 
think  children  brought  up  without  a  garden  are  gen- 
erally unhappy  little  creatures,  and  ours  are  getting 
big  enough  to  enjoy  it." 

By  that  time  Julia  was  nine  years  old,  and  Maud, 
of  course,  two  years  older  still.  Their  father  and 
mother  therefore  gave  notice  to  their  landlord,  and 
cast  about  in  their  minds  for  some  new  and  desirable 
neighborhood  which  would  contain  a  new  and  desir- 
able residence. 

They  decided  eventually  on  purchasing  a  house  in 
the  most  artistic  suburb  of  London,  that  which  is 
known  among  Londoners  as  Northampton  Park.  They 
were  lucky  enough  to  find  a  house  to  be  sold  at  a  rea- 
sonable price  in  the  main  road  of  this  quaint  little 
village.  It  stood  well  back  from  the  traffic,  having  a 
long  garden  between  the  gate  and  the  entrance.  The 
gate  was  rustic  and  wooden,  and  was  decorated  with 
an  art  copper  plate  of  irregular  shape,  on  which  the 
name  of  the  house  was  embossed  in  quaint  letters 
extremely  difficult  to  read — "Ye  Dene." 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  29 

''Why,"  asked  Julia,  when  she  and  her  sister  were 
taken  to  see  the  new  domicile,  ''why  do  you  call  our 
new  house  Ye  Den?     Is  it  a  den?" 

"Ye  Dene,  dearest— Ye  Dene.  It  is  old  English 
spelling,"  said  Regina.  "I  think  it  is  rather  pretty, 
don't  you  Alfie?" 

"H'm,  the  house  is  nice  enough,  and  you  youngsters 
will  enjoy  the  garden,  which  is  far  better  than  you 
have  ever  had  before.  I  believe  it  costs  a  lot  of  money 
to  alter  the  name  of  a  house;  in  fact,  I  don't  know 
whether  one  is  allowed  to  or  not.    I  '11  find  out. 

But,  somehow,  they  took  possession  of  their  new 
home  without  finding  out  whether  it  was  possible  to 
alter  the  name  thereof. 

"What  about  headed  paper,  Queenie?"  said  Al- 
fred, when  they  were  at  breakfast  on  the  second 
morning  after  their  entrance  into  the  new  domicile. 

"Headed  paper?  Oh  yes,  we  must  have  that, 
dear. ' ' 

"Well,   will   you   stick   to   calling   the    house   Ye 

Dene?" 

"Well,"  said  Regina,  "I  went  for  a  little  turn 
yesterday,  and  I  took  note  of  all  the  houses  and  what 
their  names  were.  I  passed  Charles  Lodge  and 
George  Cottage,  and  The  Poplars,  The  Elms,  The 
Quarry,  The  Nook,  Ingleside,  High  Elms,  The  Briars, 
and  a  dozen  different  variations  of  the  same,  such  as 
Briar  Cottage,  High  Elms  Cottage,  and  so  on ;  but  I 
didn't  see  any  other  house  that  seemed  to  be  con- 
nected with  this  one.  I  rather  like  the  name,  and 
that  queer,  irregular-shaped  copper  plate  will  be  a 


30  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

sort  of  landmark  when  our  friends  come  from  town 
to  see  us." 

''How  would  it  be,"  suggested  Alfred,  **to  have 
the  shape  of  the  plate  reproduced  for  our  address — a 
kind  of  scroll  the  shape  of  that  with  'Ye  Dene'  in  the 
middle?" 

"Yes,  that's  a  good  idea,"  said  Regina.  ''But  you 
will  have  to  put  Northampton  Park  within  the  shield, 
or  else  it  will  look  very  odd. ' ' 

"Well,  look  here,"  said  he,  "I'll  take  the  pattern  of 
it  and  see  what  Cuthberts  can  suggest." 

The  result  of  this  conversation  was  that  Cuthberts, 
the  celebrated  notepaper  dealers,  made  a  very  pretty 
suggestion  embodying  the  shield,  the  name  of  Ye 
Dene  and  the  further  postal  address,  and  the  Whit- 
takers  finally  decided  that  they  would  not  trouble  to 
alter  the  name  of  their  new  residence. 

It  was  at  the  Park — for  I  may  as  well  follow  the 
customs  of  its  inhabitants  and  speak  of  it  as  they  do 
— that  Mrs.  Whittaker  began  to  seriously  think  of  the 
education  of  her  children. 

They  made  friends  slowly.  In  due  course  the  vicar 
called  upon  them,  and  was  followed  a  little  later 
by  his  wife.  Then  the  wife  of  a  doctor  just  across 
the  road  made  it  her  business  to  welcome  the  new- 
comers, and  the  neighbors  on  either  side  of  Ye  Dene 
called ;  but,  all  the  same,  they  made  friends  slowly. 

Mrs.  Whittaker  made  many  and  searching  inquiries 
into  the  possibilities  of  education,  and  she  finally 
concluded  that  she  would  send  them  to  the  High 
School,  at  which  all  the  youth  of  the  Park  received 
their  learning.     So,  morning  after  morning,  the  two 


MRS.    AVHITTAKER  31 

quaint  little  figures  set  out  from  Ye  Dene  at  a  little 
after  nine  o'clock,  returning  punctually  at  half-past 
twelve  and  sallying  forth  again  about  a  quarter-past 
two  for  the  afternoon  school,  which  lasted  until  four. 

What  queer,  quaint  little  maids  they  were !  Re- 
gina's  o^vn  curious  taste  in  dress  she  did  not  repro- 
duce in  her  children.  She  held  lofty  theories  that 
little  girls  should  not  be  made  vain  by  curled  hair 
and  flounced  frocks.  Their  hair  was  therefore  cut 
close  to  their  heads,  as  if  they  had  been  two  boys,  and 
they  wore  curious  little  Quaker-brown  jackets  and 
hoods,  which  gave  them  an  air  of  having  come  out  of 
the  ark. 

"I  regard  it  as  terrible  that  children,  who  should 
be  wholly  irresponsible  and  whose  troubles  will  come 
soon  enough,  should  ever  have  to  think  of  the  care  of 
their  clothes,"  she  said  one  day  to  the  doctor's  wife 
across  the  road. 

"For  my  part,"  the  lady  replied,  "I  don't  think 
that  you  can  too  early  inculcate  a  proper  care  of  the 
person  into  little  girls.  My  own  child,  who  was  ten 
last  week,  is  as  particular  about  the  fit  and  style  of 
her  clothes  as  I  am  about  mine.  If  vou  brinff  orirls 
up,  dear  lady,  to  run  quite  wild,  do  you  not  think  that 
you  do  away  with  their  domesticity,  that  most 
precious  quality  of  all  women?" 

''I  am  only  too  anxious  to  do  away  with  their  do- 
mesticity," said  Mrs.  AVhittaker,  quietly  but  very 
firmly.  "You  see,  Mrs.  M'Quade,  I  am  no  ordinary 
woman  myself.  I  have  had  the  education  of  a  man. 
I  have  a  man's  brain.     I  believe  that  in  the  near 


32  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES   OF 

future  the  position  of  women  will  be  entirely 
altered. ' ' 

''Then  you  are  going  to  bring  your  girls  up  to 
professions  ? ' ' 

''I  am  going  to  bring  my  girls  up  to  follow  the 
natural  bent  of  their  minds.  If  they  show  any  apti- 
tude for  and  desire  to  follow  one  of  the  learned  pro- 
fessions, neither  their  father  nor  I  will  put  any  stum- 
bling-block in  their  way." 

' '  I  see.    Have  you  pushed  them  on  already  ? ' ' 

*'No,  that  is  altogether  against  my  principles.  I 
never  do  anything  against  my  principles.  I  think 
that  all  children  should  reach  the  age  of  seven  years 
before  they  imbibe  any  learning,  except  such  as 
comes  through  the  eye  and  in  a  perfectly  natural  and 
simple  manner.  After  the  age  of  seven,  until  ten 
years  old,  I  believe  that  lessons  should  be  of  the  sim.- 
plest  and  most  harmless  description.  After  that,  the 
brain  is  strong  and  is  better  able  to  bear  forcing. ' ' 

''I  see.  Well,  your  plan  may  be  a  good  one;  my 
plan  may  be  a  good  one,  I  sent  my  little  girl  to  a 
kindergarten  when  she  was  four  years  old,  because 
she  was  lonely;  she  was  not  happy,  she  was  always 
bored,  always  wanting  somebody  to  play  with  her, 
and  she  yearned  for  playmates  and  little  occupations. 
When  she  went  to  the  kindergarten,  she  took  to  it 
like  a  duck  to  water.  She  loved  her  school  then,  and 
now  that  she  is  in  a  more  advanced  class,  she  is  well 
on  with  her  studies." 

"I  see.    And  you  dress  her  very  elaborately?" 

"Oh  no,  not  elaborately,"  said  Mrs.  M'Quade.     *'I 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  33 

always  try  to  dress  her  daintily  and  smartly,  but 
never  elaborately." 

"It  is  not  in  accordance  with  my  principles,"  said 
Regina,  loftily.  "I  have  a  set  fashion  for  my  chil- 
dren, and  I  intend  to  keep  them  to  it  until  they  are 
old  enough  to  choose  for  themselves.  Then  they  will 
take  to  the  task  of  dressing  themselves  with  minds 
untrammeled  by  the  opinions  of  other  people,  even 
of  their  own  mother.  I  have  always  tried  so  to  bring 
up  my  girls  as  to  make  them  thoroughly  original  in 
every  possible  way.  They  are  not  quite  like  other 
children.  They  are  children  as  much  out  of  the  ordi- 
nary as  their  mother  was  before  them ;  convention  has 
no  part,  and  shall  have  no  part  in  their  lives  whatso- 
ever. Indeed,  I  may  say  that  conventions  is  one  of  the 
greatest  bugbears  of  my  existence." 

"But  we  must  have  conventions,"  said  the  doctor's 
wife. 

"Must  we?"  said  Mrs.  "Whittaker,  with  a  superior 
smile.  "Ah,  I  see  that  you  and  I,  dear  Mrs.  M'Quade, 
must  agree  to  differ.  Let  me  give  you  some  tea.  I 
assure  you  it  is  quite  conventional  tea." 

' '  Thank  you  very  much, ' '  said  Mrs.  M  'Quade,  smil- 
ing. 

In  retailing  the  conversation  to  her  husband  that 
evening,  Mrs.  M'Quade  remarked  that  it  ivas  quite 
conventional  tea.  "  I  should  think  about  one-and- 
twopence  a  pound,"  was  her  comment. 

"And  how  did  you  like  the  lady?"  her  husband 
asked. 

"She  is  an  extraordinary  woman,  a  very  extra- 
ordinary woman.     I  don't  know  that  I  like  her;    on 


34  LITTLE  YANITIES  OF 

the  other  hand,  I  don't  know  whether  there  is  any- 
thing about  her  to  dislike." 

"What  age — ^what  size — what  sort  of  a  woman  is 
she?"  he  asked. 

"In  age  something  over  forty;  in  person  plump 
and  rather  comely.  A  large,  solid  woman,  with  no 
idea  of  making  the  best  of  herself.  She  had  a  tea- 
gown  on  to-day  that  would  have  made  the  very  angels 
weep." 

' '  Would  any  tea-gown  make  the  angels  weep  ? ' ' 
"I  think  that  one  would.  It  was  a  dingy  brown 
and  a  salmon-pink.  Wherever  it  was  brown  you 
wished  it  was  salmon-pink,  and  wherever  it  was 
salmon-pink  you  wished  it  was  brown,  except  when 
you  were  wishing  that  it  was  black  altop^ether,  with- 
out any  relief  at  all." 

' '  Dear  me !  What  was  it  like  ? ' ' 
"Well,  it  was  just  the  one  garment  that  she  should 
never  have  worn.  She  wears  old-fashioned  stays,  and 
though  people  may  think  they  don't  matter  in  a  tea- 
gown,  I  think  stays  have  more  effect  on  the  general 
cut  of  a  tea-gown  than  they  have  on  any  other  gar- 
ment. I  should  like  to  have  dressed  that  lady  in  a 
plain  coat  and  skirt  from  my  own  tailor,  with  a  loose 
white  front,  and  a  good  black  hat.  But  I  don't  think 
anybody  would  know  her." 

"Well,  it's  no  business  of  yours,  little  woman," 
said  the  doctor,  cheerily.  "And,  after  all,  it's  a 
new  family — children — infantile  diseases — servants — 
people  apparently  thoroughly  well-to-do.  Bought  the 
house — done  it  up  inside  and  out.  It  isn't  for  you 
and  I  to  quarrel  with  our  bread  and  butter." 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  35 


CHAPTER   IV 


SKATING   ON   THIN   ICE 


Was  itj   I  wonder,  a  mother  who   first  evolved  the  proverb: 
"  Where  ignorance  is  bliss  'twere  folly  to  be  wise  "  ? 

It  cannot  be  said  that  as  a  family  the  inhabitants 
of  Ye  Dene  were  a  success  at  Northampton  Park.  I 
have  already  said  that  they  made  friends  slowly,  and 
in  saying-  so  I  was  of  course  speaking  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Whittaker  and  not  of  the  children.  The  chil- 
dren, on  the  contrary,  made  friends  very  quickly  and 
as  quickly  got  through  them.  I  doubt  indeed  if 
two  more  unpopular  children  had  ever  attended  the 
Northampton  Park  High  School.  Fortunately  for 
them,  I  mean  for  their  peace  of  mind  as  the  time  went 
by,  Mrs.  Whittaker  was  not  aware  of  the  real  reason 
for  this  state  of  affairs. 

''I  hear,''  she  remarked  one  day  to  long-legged 
Maud,  who  had  been  for  a  couple  of  years  advanced 
to  the  dignity  of  a  pigtail,  "I  hear  that  Gwendoline 
Hammond  had  a  party  yesterday." 

Maudie  went  very  red  and  looked  extremely  uncom- 
fortable. "I_I_did  hear  something  about  it,"  she 
stammered. 

''How  was  it  that  you  were  not  asked?"  inquired 


36  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

Regina,  with  an  air  very  much  like  that  of  a  porcu- 
pine suddenly  shooting  its  quills  into  evidence. 

"Oh,  Gwendoline  Hammond  is  a  mean  little 
sneak ! ' '  burst  out  Julia,  who  was  much  the  bolder  of 
the  sisters. 

"A  sneak?  How  a  sneak?  What  had  she  to  sneak 
about?"  demanded  Regina. 

"Well,  it  was  like  this,  mother.  Gwendoline  is  an 
awful  bully,  you  know,  and  poor  little  Tuppenny 
was  being  frightfully  bullied  by  her  one  day,  and 
she's  a  dear  little  thing,  she  can't  take  care  of  herself 
— somebody's  got  to  stand  up  for  her — and  Maudie 
punched  her  head." 

' '  Punched  her  head !    And  what  was  she  doing  ? ' ' 

"Well,  she  was  twisting  poor  little  Tuppenny's  arm 
around. ' ' 

' '  AVhat !  That  mere  child  ?  And  Gwendoline  head 
and  shoulders  taller  than  she?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  say  Maudie — punched  her  head?" 

"Yes,  and  she  punched  it  hard,  too.  And  then 
Gwendoline  went  blubbering  home,  and  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond came  to  Miss  Drummond,  and — "  Well,  really, 
my  reader,  I  hesitate  to  say  what  happened  next,  but 
as  this  is  a  true  chronicle  I  had  better  make  the  plunge 
and  get  it  over  and  done  with — "and  then,"  said 
Julia,  solemnly,  "there  w^as  the  devil  to  pay!" 

"You  had  better  not  put  it  in  that  way,"  said 
Regina,  hurriedly.  I  must  confess  that  she  had  the 
greatest  difficulty  to  choke  down  a  laugh.  "You  had 
better  not  put  it  in  that  way.  '  The  devil  to  pay'  is 
next  door  to  swearing  itself,  to  say  nothing  of  being 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  37 

what  a  great  many  people  would  call  excessively  vul- 
gar; and  if  you  were  heard  to  say  such  a  thing  at 
school,  you  would  get  yourselves  into  dreadful 
trouble,  and  me  too.  I  shall  be  obliged,  Julia,  if  you 
will  not  use  that  expression  again. 

''Very  well,  mother,"  said  Julia,  with  an  air  of 
great  meekness,  which,  I  may  say  in  passing,  she  was 
far  from  feeling. 

' '  With  regard, ' '  went  on  Regina  in  her  most  mag- 
nificent manner,  "with  regard  to  Gwendoline  Ham- 
mond and  her  miserable  party,  I  consider  it  distinctly 
a  feather  in  your  cap,  Maudie,  that  you  were  left 
uninvited.    If  it  were  told  to  me,  as  I  presume  it  was 
told  to  Mrs.  Hammond,  that  one  of  you  had  been  bru- 
tally cruel  to  a  child  many  sizes  smaller  than  yourself 
and  incapable  of  self-defence,  I  should  mete  out  the 
severest  punishment  that  it  was  possible  for  me  to 
give  you.    You  have  never  been  punished,  because  it 
has  never  been  necessary.     Some  mothers,"  she  con- 
tinued, ''would  punish  you  for  using  such  a  term  as 
'the  devil  to  pay.'     I  regard  that  as  a  venial  offence 
which  your  own  common  sense  will  teach  you  is  inex- 
pedient as  a  phrase  for  everyday  conversation.     But 
brutal  cowardice  is  a  matter  which  I  should  find  it 
very  difficult  to  forgive,  and  I  am  extremely  proud 
that  you  should  have  taken  the  part  of  a  poor  little 
child  who  was  not  able  to  do  it  for  herself.    I  shall  tell 
your  father  when  he  comes  home,  and  I  shall  ask  him 
to  reward  you  in  a  suitable  manner;    and  meantime, 
when  I  see  Miss  Drummond — " 

"If  you  please,  mother,"  broke  in  Julia,  who  was, 
as  I  have  said,  the  dominant  one  of  the  two  sisters, 


38  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

''if  you  please,  mother,  just  drop  it  about  Miss  Drum- 
mond.  We  are  quite  able  to  fight  our  own  battles 
at  school — ^we  don't  want  Miss  Drummond,  or  any- 
body else,  to  think  that  we  come  peaching  to  you 
telling  you  everything.  We  tell  you  because  we  are 
fond  of  you  and  you  ask,  and — and — ^we  don't  like 
to  lie  to  you."  She  stammered  a  little,  because  on 
occasion  no  one  could  tell  a  prettier  lie  than  Julia 
Whittaker.  "In  fact"  ended  Julia,  ''our  lives 
wouldn't  be  worth  living  if  it  was  known  that  we 
came  peaching  home. ' ' 

"It  is  your  duty  to  tell  me  everything,"  said 
Eegina. 

"Well,  you  might  say  the  same  about  Gwendoline 
Hammond,"  remarked  Julia,  with  a  matter-of-fact 
air. 

"You  are  within  your  right,"  said  Mrs.  Whittaker; 
"you  are  within  your  right.    I  apologize." 

"Oh,  please  don't  do  that,"  said  Julia,  magnani- 
mously; "it  isn't  at  all  necessary.  But  you  please 
won't  say  anything  to  Miss  Drummond  about  it — 
not  unless  she  should  speak  to  you,  which  she  won't. 
She  was  very  indignant  with  Gwendoline  when  she 
found  the  whole  truth  out,  and  I  believe  she — at  least 
I  did  hear  that  she  paid  a  special  visit  to  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond and  made  things  extremely  unpleasant  for 
Gwendoline.  I  don't  wonder  she  didn't  ask  Maudie 
to  her  party,  because  her  father  happened  to  be  there, 
and  he  was  very  angry  about  it.  He  almost  stopped 
her  having  her  party  altogether,  only  Mrs.  Hammond 
had  asked  some  people  and  she  did  not  like  to  go  back 
upon  her  word  and  disgrace  Gwendoline  before  every- 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  39 

body.    So  you  understand,  mother,  not  a  word,  please, 
to  Miss  Drummond." 

"My  dear  child,"  said  Regina,  ''my  dear  original, 
splendid  child!" 

Julia  coughed.  She  would  have  liked  to  have  taken 
the  praise  to  herself,  but  with  ^laudie  standing  open- 
mouthed  at  her  side  it  was  not  altogether  feasible. 
She  coughed  again.  "You— you  forget  Maudie,"  she 
remarked  mildly. 

' '  My  dear,  noble,  generous  child !  I  forget  nothing 
— and  I  will  forget  nothing  for  either  of  you.  Here, 
she  went  on,  in  ringing  accents  which  would  have 
brought  down  the  house  if  Regina  had  been  speaking 
at  any  public  meeting,  "is  a  small  recognition  from 
your  mother,  and  at  dinner-time  to-night  your  father 
shall  speak  to  you." 

"I  think,"  remarked  Julia,  ten  minutes  later,  when 
she  and  her  sister  were  on  the  safe  ground  of  that 
part  of  the  garden  which  belonged  exclusively  to 
them,  "I  think  we  got  out  of  that  uncommonly  well, 
Maudie,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,  but  it  was  skating  on  thin  ice,"  said  Maudie. 
"I  don't  know  how  you  dared,  Ju.  You  told  mother 
you  didn't  like  telling  lies!" 

"Well,"  said  Julia,  "it  is  to  be  hoped  it  will  never 
come  out,  for  if  it  does  there  will  be  the  devil  to  pay 
and  no  mistake  about  it." 

It  was  as  well  for  Regina 's  peace  of  mind  that  the 
thin  ice  never  broke,  and  that  the  actual  truth  never 
came  to  light.  You  know  what  the  poet  says — "A 
lie  that  is  half  a  lie  is  ever  the  hardest  to  fight. ' '  Well, 
the  same  idea  holds  good  for  a  truth  that  is  half  a 


40  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

truth.  I  don't  say  that  Julia's  account  of  the  differ- 
ence between  themselves  and  Gwendoline  Hammond 
was  wholly  a  lie,  but  it  was  certainly  not  wholly  the 
truth ;  indeed,  it  was  such  a  garbled  account  that  no- 
body concerned  therein  but  would  have  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  recognize  it. 

"Wasn't  mother's  little  sermon  about  the  devil  to 
pay  lovely?"  said  Julia,  swinging  idly  to  and  fro 
while  Maudie  stood  contemplating  her  gravely. 

"Yes,"  said  Maudie,  "but  she  was  quite  right. 
That's  the  best  of  mother — she's  always  so  full  of 
sound  common-sense." 

"Except  when  she  calls  you  her  brave,  noble 
child!"  rejoined  the  sharp  wit. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Maudie,  reflectively,  "that 
that  was  altogether  mother's  fault." 

"Perhaps  it  wasn't.    It  will  be  just  as  well  for  you 

and  for  both  of  us  as  far   as  that  goes,   if  mother 

doesn't  happen  to  just  mention  the  matter  to  Tup- 

'  penny 's  mother.     I  think  I  was  a  fool  not  to  have 

safeguarded  that  point." 

"There's  time  enough,"  said  Maudie.  "You  can 
lead  up  to  it  when  you  go  in,  because,  you  know,  Ju, 
if  they  ever  do  find  out — " 

' '  Yes,  there  will  be  the  devil  to  pay, ' '  put  in  Julia. 
"You  are  quite  right. '^ 

It  was  astonishing  how  sweet  a  morsel  the  phrase 
seemed  to  be  to  the  child. 

"You'll  get  saying  it  to  Miss  Drummond,"  said 
Maudie,  warningly. 

"Well,  if  I  do,"  retorted  Julia,  "I  shall  have  had 
the  pleasure  of  saying  it — that  will  be  something. ' ' 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  41 

Now  this  was  but  one  of  many  similar  instances 
which  occurred  during  the  childhood  of  Regina's  two 
girls.  They  were  so  sharp — at  least  Julia  was — and 
as  she  was  devoted  to  ^Maudie,  she  always  put  her 
wits  at  the  service  of  her  sister,  and  the  other 
children  whom  they  knew  not  unnaturally  resented 
the  fact  that  they  were  invariably  to  be  found  in  the 
wrong  box  in  any  discussion  in  which  the  Whittaker 
children  had  a  share.  So  they  became  more  and 
more  isolated  as  the  years  went  by. 

"AVhy  don't  we  like  the  Whittakers?"  said  a  girl 
to  her  mother,  who  had  met  Mrs.  Whittaker  and 
thought  her  a  very  remarkable  woman.  "Well,  be- 
cause we  don't." 

''Yes,  but  why?" 

"Oh,  well,  we  don't  exactly  know  why — but  we 
don't.     They're  queer." 

Have  you  noticed,  dear  reader,  how  frequent  it  is 
to  set  down  those  who  are  too  sharp  for  you  as 
"queer?"  Well,  it  was  just  so  at  Northampton  Park, 
and  what  the  girl  didn't  choose  to  put  into  plain 
words,  she  stigmatized  as  queer. 

"And  what  do  you  mean  by  queer?"  the  mother 
asked. 

"Well,  they  are  queer.  I  think  their  mother  must 
be  queer,  too,  because  their  dress  is  so  funny." 

"Is  it?" 

"Oh,  awfully.     They  always  wear  brown." 

"What  are  they  like?" 

"Well,  Maudie  is  fairish  and  Julia  is  darkish. 
Maudie  has  quite  a  straight  nose  and  Julia 's  turns  up 
— oh,  it  isn't  an  ugly  turn-up  nose,  I  didn't  mean 


42  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

that.  But  they  are  such  guys,  and  what  is  worse, 
they  don't  care  a  bit." 

''Really?  What  sort  of  guys?"  asked  the  mother, 
who  was  immensely  amused. 

''Well,  they  never  have  anything  like  anybody 
else.  They've  got  long,  pokey  frocks  made  of  tough 
brown  stuff,  like — er — like — er — pictures  of  Dutch 
children.  And  over  them  they  wear  long  holland 
pinafores." 

"It  sounds  very  sensible,"  remarked  the  mother. 
"And  when  they  come  out  of  school?" 

"In  the  winter  they've  got  long  brown  coats,  with 
little  bits  here — you  know." 

"You  mean  a  yoke?" 

' '  I  don 't  know  what  you  call  it,  mother — little  bits, 
and  skirts  from  it,  and  poke  bonnets,  and  brown  wool 
gloves;  brown  stockings  and  brown  shoes,  and  little 
brown  muffs.    Oh,  they  really  are  awfully  queer ! ' ' 

"And  in  the  summer?" 

"In  the  summer?  Well,  in  the  summer  they  wear 
brown  holland  things.  They're  queer,  mother,  I 
can't  tell  you  any  more — they're  queer." 

' '  I  see, ' '  said  the  mother.  ' '  But  in  themselves, ' '  she 
persisted,  "what  are  they  like  in  themselves?" 

' '  Oh,  I  don 't  know.    Nobody  likes  them  much. ' ' 

' '  Poor  children !  I  wish  you  would  be  a  little  kind 
to  them." 

"Do  you?"  said  the  girl,  rather  wistfully.  "Well, 
I  will  if  you  like,  but  it  would  be  an  awful  bore,  and 
they  wouldn  't  thank  us. ' ' 

"I  see,"  said  the  mother.  But  she  was  wrong; 
she  only  thought  she  saw. 


MRS.   WHITTAKER  43 

So  time  sped  on,  and  these  two  children  grew  more 
and  more  long-legged,  more  and  more  definite  in 
character,  and  as  they  progressed  towards  what  ]\Irs. 
Whittaker  fondly  believed  to  be  originality  and  un- 
conventionalism,  so  did  her  mother's  heart  bound  and 
yearn  within  her. 

*  *  I  am  amply  satisfied  with  the  result  of  our  scheme 
of  education,"  she  was  wont  to  say.  "No,  it  is  not 
easy — it  is  much  easier  to  bring  up  children  in  the 
conventional  way.  But  the  result — oh,  my  dear  lady, 
the  result,  when  you  feel  a  thrill  of  pride  that  your 
children  are  different  to  others,  is  worth  the  sacri- 
fice." 

*'Now  I  wonder  what,"  said  the  lady  in  question 
in  the  bosom  of  her  family,  "did  that  foolish  woman 
particularly  have  to  sacrifice?  The  general  feeling 
in  the  Park  seems  to  be  that  the  Whittakers  are 
horrid  children — disagreeable,  ill-bred,  sententious, 
and  altogether  ridiculous;  too  sharp  in  one  way,  too 
stupid  for  words  in  another.  And  yet  she  talks 
about  sacrifice ! ' ' 

"Oh,  Maudie  isn't  sharp — at  least,  not  particularly 
so,"  said  her  own  girl,  who,  being  a  couple  of  years 
older  than  ]\Iaudie  Whittaker,  knew  fairly  well  the 
lie  of  the  land.  "Julia's  sharp — a  needle  isn't  in  it. 
It's  Julia  who  backs  ]\Iaudie  up  in  everything,  and 
Julia  is  a  horrid  little  beast  whom  everybody  hates 
and  loathes.  She  tried  it  on  with  me  once  when  I 
was  at  school,  but  I  soon  put  the  young  lady  in  her 
right  place  with  a  good  setting  down,  and  she  never 
tried  it  on  any  more.     They'd  have  been  all  right  if 


44  LITTLE  VANITIES  OP 

they    had    been    properly    brought    up,    which    they 
weren't." 

''You  think  not?" 

''Oh  no,  mother.  You  have  no  idea  how  intensely 
silly  Mrs.  Whittaker  is." 

"Is  she?  I  thought  she  was  such  a  brilliant 
woman. ' ' 

"I  believe  she  calls  herself  so;  nobody  else  agrees 
with  her." 

"Do  you  know  what  I  heard  about  Mrs.  Whittaker 
only  yesterday?"  said  the  mother,  with  a  sudden 
gleam  of  remembrance.  "She  has  gone  in  for  public 
speaking.     They  say  it's  too  killing  for  words." 

"Speaking  on  whatT'  asked  the  girl. 

"On  the  improvement  of  the  condition  of  women." 

"What!  a  political  affair?" 

"No,  no;  not  political  at  all;  a  something  quite 
disconnected  with  politics — quite  above  them.  She 
has  been  chosen  President  of  a  new  society  which  is 
to  be  called  'The  Society  for  the  Regeneration  of 
Women.'  " 


IVIES.  AVHITTAKER  45 


CHAPTER     V 


THE   S.R.W. 


Why  is  it  that  \yomeTi  are  so  fond  of  founding  societies  both 
for  the  improvement  of  themselves  and  of  each  other?  Is 
it  a  confession  of  weakness,  or  is  it  one  of  the  signs  of  the 
coming  of  the  milleniura? 

Mrs.  Whittaker  was  a  woman  who  never  did 
tilings  by  halves.  She  distinctly  prided  herself  there- 
upon. 

"  If  a  thing,  my  dear,  is  worth  doing,  ^ '  I  heard  her 
say  about  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  "it  is 
worth  doing  well  I  have  great  faith — although  I 
have  gone  so  far  above  the  old-world  thoughts  of 
religion — in  the  verse  which  says:  'Wliatsoever  thy 
hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  all  thy  might.'  It  is  a 
grand  precept,  one  that  I  instil  into  my  children — 
er — er — " 

*'For  all  you  are  worth,"  remarked  a  flippant  young 
woman  who  was  listening. 

"I — I  shouldn't  have  expressed  it  in  that  way," 
stammered  Regina,  somewhat  taken  aback.  ''But — 
but — er — it's  what  I  mean." 

"And  your  children,  are  they  the  same?" 

' '  Yes,  I  am  proud  to  say  that  my  children  are  very 
much  like  me  in  that  respect.  Wlien  they  play,  they 
play;  when  they  work,  they  work;  when  they  idle 


46  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

they  idle;  and  I  am  sure  if  ever  they  were  naughty, 
that  they  would  be  naughty  with  all  their  might." 

Poor  Regina!  Well,  to  make  the  story  somewhat 
shorter,  I  must  tell  you  that  when  Regina  Whittaker 
went  into  public  life,  she  did  so  in  no  half-hearted 
manner. 

'*I  am  convinced,"  she  remarked  to  the  lord  of  her 
bosom,  "I  am  convinced  that  I  am  taking  a  step  in 
the  right  direction.    "What  do  you  think,  Alfie?" 

"My  dear,"  said  Alfred  Whittaker,  somewhat 
sleepily,  for  he  had  had  a  hard  day  in  the  city  and 
had  eaten  an  extremely  good  dinner,  "if  it  pleases 
you,  it  pleases  me.  You  have  such  a  clear,  sensible 
head,"  he  went  on,  feeling  that  perhaps  he  had  been  a 
little  too  unsympathetic,  "you  have  such  a  clear, 
sensible  head,  that  I  am  sure  you  will  take  up  no 
question  that  is  not  a  good  one — an  advantageous 
one." 

"I  thought  you  would  see  it  in  that  light,  dear 
Alfie, ' '  said  Mrs.  Whittaker  in  tones  which  betokened 
much  pleasure.  "You  are  so  generous  and  so  just. 
Some  men  would  hate  to  feel  that  their  wives  had  any 
interest  outside  their  own  homes." 

"Oh,  my  dear  heart  and  soul!"  exclaimed  Alfred 
Whittaker,  looking  up  in  a  very  wide-awake  sort  of 
way,  "surely  this  is  a  land  of  liberty.  I  don't  want 
to  tie  you  down  to  being  no  better  than  my  slave. 
God  knows  you  fag  enough  and  slave  enough  for  all 
of  us.  It  would  be  hard  if  you  couldn't  have  a  few 
opinions  and  a  few  interests  of  your  own." 

"Yes,  dear;  but  it  isn't  quite  that.  It  is  not  only 
of  opinions  that  I  am  speaking,  it  is  the  encouraging 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  47 

way  in  which  you  consent  to  my  entering  on  this 
somewhat  pronounced  question." 

"I  have  absolute  faith  in  your  judgment,"  said 
Alfred  Whittaker;  and  again  he  composed  himself 
for  his  after-dinner  nap. 

Regina  sat  looking  at  him  as  he  slumbered.  Her 
heart  was  very  full,  for  she  was  an  affectionate 
woman,  and,  in  spite  of  her  little  airs  and  pretensions, 
she  was  really  a  good  woman  at  bottom.  Her  heart 
swelled  with  pride  to  think  that  this  was  her  husband, 
this  handsome,  portly,  dignified  man  with  a  presence, 
an  air  of  being  somebody,  this  man  who  was  so  good, 
so  easy  to  live  with,  such  a  good  husband  and  such  an 
affectionate  father.  And  to  think  that  he  was  hers ! 
As  I  have  said  already,  her  heart  thrilled  within  her. 

It  was  true  that  others  might  not  have  agreed  with 
Regina  in  her  estimate  of  her  husband.  The  outer 
world  might  have  thought  him  anything  but  hand- 
some, might  have  thought  that  he  had  anything 
rather  than  a  presence.  What  Regina  called  portly, 
a  less  tender  critic  might  have  described  in  an  ex- 
tremely unpleasant  manner;  but,  you  see,  Regina 
looked  at  him  with  eyes  of  possession,  and  the  eyes  of 
possession  are  ever  somewhat  biassed. 

So  her  thoughts  ran  pleasantly  on.  Yes,  it  was 
indeed  sweet  to  be  so  blessed  as  she  was  in  her  home 
life.  She  had  once  believed  that  her  life  was  a 
wasted  one.  Well,  that  was  in  the  foolish  days,  be- 
fore she  had  tried  her  wings.  Not  that  she  ever 
regarded  her  flights  into  the  world  of  higher  thought 
with  the  very  smallest  regret;  that  could  never  be. 
Enlightenment  is  always  enlightenment,  whether  it  is 


48  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OP 

actually  paying  in  a  monetary  sense  or  not.  She 
firmly  believed  that  an  elaborate  and  somewhat 
masculine  education  had  enabled  her  to  become  a 
better  wife  and  mother  than  she  would  have  been  had 
she  been  contented  with  the  genteel  education  which 
her  parents  had  thought  good  enough,  further  than 
Avhich  indeed  their  minds  had  never  attempted  to  fly. 
Perhaps,  her  thoughts  ran,  her  mission  in  life  was  to 
bring  enlightenment  to  the  minds  of  other  women,  in 
a  somewhat  different  way  to  that  which  she  had 
hitherto  accepted  as  the  most  reasonable.  Be  that  as 
it  may,  Eegina  entered  upon  her  duties  as  President 
of  the  S.E.W.,  armed  with  the  full  sanction  of  her 
husband's  permission  and  approval. 

To  all  her  friends  she  was  an  amazing  and,  at  the 
same  time,  an  amusing  study  about  this  epoch. 

"I  am  perfectly  certain,"  remarked  Mrs.  M'Quade 
to  the  mother  of  the  little  girl  who  at  school  was  called 
Tuppenny,  "I  am  perfectly  certain  that  Mrs.  Whit- 
taker  has  at  last  found  her  metier.  Are  you  going  to 
join  her  scheme  for  the  regeneration  of  women?" 

"I  don't  think  so,"  replied  the  lady  who  lived  at 
Highthorn.  "My  husband  is  so  very  sneering  when 
anything  of  the  kind  is  mentioned.  I  shouldn't  mind 
for  myself ;  I  think  it  would  be  rather  fun.  They  are 
going  to  have  tea-parties  and  soirees,  and  all  sorts  of 
amusements.  But  George  would  be  so  full  of  his  fun, 
that  I  don't  feel  somehow  it  would  be  good  enough 
for  me  to  go  into.  Besides,  it's  three  guineas  a  year. 
As  far  as  I  can  tell,"  she  continued,  "from  what  Mrs. 
Whittaker  has  told  me,  there  won't  be  any  real  re- 
generation of  women  in  our  day.    It  may  come  in  the 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  49 

day  of  our  grandchildren,  but  I  don't  feel  inclined  to 
work  for  that." 

"That  shows  a  great  want  of  public  spirit,"  re- 
marked the  doctor's  wife,  laughingly. 

"Yes,  I  daresay  it  does,  but  I  don't  believe  women 
are  public-spirited,  except  here  and  there — generally 
when  they  have  made  a  failure  of  their  own  lives,  as 
my  old  man  always  says." 

'•'But  Mrs.  Whittaker  hasn't  made  a  failure  of  her 
life." 

''Well,  she  has  and  she  hasn't.  She  has  failed  to 
become  anything  very  much  out  of  the  ordinary.  She 
is  very  fond  of  calling  herself  an  unconventional 
woman  who  never  does  anything  like  anybody  else, 
but  I  fail  to  see  very  much  in  it  excepting  that  she 
makes  horrible  guys  of  her  girls." 

"Well,  I  am  going  to  join  the  society,"  said  Mrs. 
M'Quade,  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  prepared  to  re- 
ceive ridicule.  "No,  I  don't  pretend  for  a  moment 
that  I  want  regenerating  myself — or  even  that  other 
women  do — but  ]\Irs.  Whittaker  has  been  a  very  good 
patient  to  the  doctor  one  way  and  another,  and  she's 
stuck  to  us,  and  I  think  the  least  I  can  do  is  to  join 
her  pet  scheme — and,  mind  you,  it  is  a  pet  scheme." 

"I  call  that  absolutely  Machiavellian,"  said  her 
friend. 

"Oh,  a  doctor's  wife  has  to  be  Machiavellian,  my 
dear,  and  a  thousand  other  things,"  said  Mrs. 
M'Quade,  easily.  "I  have  been  fifteen  years  in  the 
Park,  and  I  have  kept  in  with  everybody — never  had  a 
wrong  word  with  a  single  one  of  Jack 's  patients.    You 


50  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

may  call  it  Machiavellian,  and  doubtless  you  are  right, 
but  I  call  it  ripping  good  management  myself. ' ' 

' '  So  it  is,  my  dear,  so  it  is.  And  you  shall  have  the 
full  credit  of  it,"  said  Tuppenny's  mother,  who  was  a 
genial  soul  and  loved  a  joke  as  well  as  most  people. 

And  Regina  meantime  was  taking  life  with  con- 
siderable seriousness.  She  fell  into  a  habit  of  speak- 
ing of  the  S.R.W.  as  of  her  life's  work;  indeed, 
she  became  a  very  important  woman.  No  sooner 
was  it  known  that  she  was  an  excellent  and  dominant 
President  of  the  S.R.W.  than  she  came  into  request 
for  other  societies  of  a  kindred  nature — no,  I  don't 
mean  societies  solely  for  the  regeneration  of  women, 
not  a  bit  of  it.  There  was  one  for  the  sensible  edu- 
cation of  children  between  three  and  seven  years  old, 
whose  committee  she  was  asked  to  join  not  many 
weeks  after  the  birth  of  the  S.R.W. ;  and  there  was 
another  society  which  bore  the  name  of  "The  Robin 
Redbreast,"  and  provided  the  poor  children  of  a 
south  London  district  with  dinners  for  a  halfpenny 
a  head,  and  a  number  of  others  that  they  provided 
with  dinners  for  nothing  at  all.  Then  there  was  a 
Shakespeare  Society,  which  had  long  existed  in  the 
Park,  and  which  until  Regina  became  a  full-blown 
president  had  never  thought  of  asking  her  to  come 
on  to  its  committee. 

Now  all  this  took  Regina  a  good  deal  away  from 
her  home,  and  the  result  of  her  absence  and  of  these 
wider  interests  in  life  was  that  the  two  girls  at  Ye 
Dene  were  enabled  to  shape  their  lives  very  much 
more  in  their  own  way  than  ever  they  had  done  be- 
fore.     Regina    had,    it    is    true,    always    aimed    at 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  51 

inculating  a  spirit  of  independence  in  her  children. 
She  required  them  to  do  certain  things  during  the 
course  of  the  day,  to  be  punctual  at  meals,  especially 
at  breakfast,  to  report  themselves  when  they  were 
going  to  school  and  when  they  returned;  but  other- 
wise, she  left  them  fairly  free  to  spend  the  rest  of 
their  time  as  their  own  inclinations  led  them.  They 
had  their  own  sitting-room  and  their  own  tea-table, 
at  which  they  could  invite  any  children  belonging  to 
their  school,  or  indeed,  for  the  matter  of  that,  any  of 
the  children  living  in  the  Park ;  and  up  to  the  advent 
of  the  S.R.W.  it  must  be  owned  that  this  system 
worked  as  well  as  any  system  could  have  worked 
with  children  of  such  pronounced  characters  as  the 
young  Whittakers.  But  after  their  mother  became 
a  public  woman,  Maudie  and  Julia  may  be  said  to 
have  run  absolutely  wild.  No  longer  did  they  report 
themselves  in  the  old  way,  because  they  had  a  very 
complete  contempt  for  servants,  and  there  was 
usually  no  one  else  to  whom  they  could  report  them- 
selves. 

' '  Does  your  mother  never  want  to  know  where  you 
are?'*  asked  a  schoolfellow  when  Maudie  was  just 
sixteen. 

"Well,  yes,  we  always  tell  her  at  night  what  we 
have  done  during  the  day." 

''Oh,  do  you?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Maudie.  "Mother  is  most  deeply 
interested  in  all  our  doings.  Did  you  think  she 
wasn't?  How  funny  of  you!  Isn't  your  mother 
interested  in  what  you  do  ? " 

"Oh  yes,  of  course  mine  is.     But  then  mine  is 


52  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OP 

rather  different  to  yours.  Mine  is  not  a  public  char- 
acter. ' ' 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  our  mother  is  exactly  a 
public  character,"  said  Julia,  who  was  keenly  on  the 
watch  for  a  single  word  which  would  in  any  way 
pour  ridicule  or  contempt  upon  her  mother. 

''Oh  yes,  she  is.  Father  says  she's  a  philanthro- 
pist ' ' 

"Oh,  does  he?  Well,  I  don't  know  I'm  sure. 
Perhaps  she  is.  I  know  she's  a  jolly  hard-worked 
woman,  and  if  she  wasn't  as  clever  as  daylight  she 
wouldn't  be  able  to  keep  going  as  she  does.  As  for 
her  being  a  philanthropist — well,  after  all,  what  is  a 
philanthropist  ? ' ' 

"Well,  I  did  ask  father,  and  he  explained  it,  but 
he  didn't  make  it  very  clear.  It  seems  to  be  a  sort 
of  person  who  goes  about  doing  good." 

"That's  mother  all  over,"  said  Maudie. 

"Then  who  mends  your  stockings?"  asked  Evelyn 
Gage. 

"Our  stockings?  Why,  mother  has  never  mended 
our  stockings.  Sewing  is  one  of  the  things  mother 
isn't  great  on.    You  couldn't  expect  it." 

"Why  not?    Mine  does." 

"Oh,  yes,  but  our  mother  is  rather  different.  You 
see,  she  was  educated  like  a  man." 

' '  How  funny ! ' '  giggled  Evelyn. 

"I  think,"  said  Maudie  to  Julia,  half  an  hour  later, 
when  Evelyn  Gage  had  gone  home  and  the  two  were 
getting  out  their  lesson-books  for  their  home  work, 
"I  think  it  would  be  rather  funny  to  have  a  mother 
like  an  ordinary  woman,  don't  you,  Ju?" 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  53 

"Well,  I  don't  know/'  returned  Julia.  "Evelyn's 
mother  makes  jam  and  pickles  and  pastry  and  lovely 
little  rock  cakes,  and  things  that  our  mother  never 
seems  to  think  of.  She  is  always  too  much  taken  up 
with  great  questions  to  bother  herself  with  little 
etceteras,  an  old  nurse  always  called  such  things. ' ' 

"Perhaps,  though,  we  should  find  it  rather  a  bore 
to  have  a  mother  who  worried  about  our  stockings 
and  things,  just  an  ordinary,  average  kind  of  mother. 
But  anyway,  we  haven't  got  a  mother  like  that,  so 
we  must  make  the  best  of  what  we  have  got." 


54  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 


CHAPTER     VI 

regina's  views 

A  Parisian  finishing  school  is  for  English  girls  like  putting 
French  polish  on  British  oak. 

Nothing  of  any  importance  happened  in  the  house- 
hold at  Ye  Dene  for  two  years  after  this.  Then  it 
became  time  for  Maudie  to  be  introduced  into  society. 
With  most  girls  this  epoch  in  life  is  one  eagerly 
looked  forward  to,  tremulously  entered  upon,  and 
very  frequently  looked  back  to  with  a  certain  amount 
of  disappointment.  Regina  herself,  I  am  bound  to 
confess,  thought  with  no  small  misgiving  of  the  time 
when  she  should  have  to  be  a  wallflower  for  her 
daughter's  sake. 

' '  The  child  must  have  her  chance  like  other  girls, ' ' 
she  remarked  to  Alfred  one  night  when  they  were 
sitting  together  in  the  drawing-room  at  Ye  Dene. 
*'She  is  very  beautiful.  She  will  not  go  empty-hand- 
ed to  her  husband.  She  ought  to  make  a  brilliant 
marriage." 

**Yes,  she  is  a  nice-looking  girl,*'  said  Alfred  Whit- 
taker. 

"My  daughters,"  said  Regina,  with  an  air  of 
dignity  which  was  very  pardonable  in  a  mother,  '*are 
both  beautiful  in  different  styles.    Maudie  is  purely 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  55 

Greek  in  type ;  Julia  is  purely  Irish — or  I  might  say 
French.  I  noticed  when  we  were  in  Brittany,  two 
years  ago,  how  thoroughly  Irish  one  type  of  the  peas- 
antry was. ' ' 

''Yes,  she's  a  good-looking  girl.  They're  both  all 
right, ' '  said  Alfred  Whittaker,  with  the  easy  indiffer- 
ence of  an  ordinary  father.  "I  daresay  you'll  have 
your  hands  full  a  little  bit  further  on,  old  lady,  when 
we  get  shoals  of  young  men  about  Ye  Dene,  and  you 
have  to  think  out  little  dances  and  suppei's  and 
theatre  parties,  and  other  things  of  that  kind,  instead 
of  giving  up  all  your  time  to  making  other  people 
happy." 

"Well,  whatever  I  have  to  do,  I  hope  I  shall  do  it 
with  all  my  might,"  said  Regina. 

' '  I  am  sure  you  will, ' '  said  Alfred,  tenderly ;  ' '  I  am 
sure  you  will,  Queenie." 

For  his  peace  of  mind's  sake,  it  was  just  as  well 
that  Alfred  Whittaker  was  at  business  during  the 
greater  part  of  each  day,  for  he  might  have  been 
upset,  not  to  say  scandalized,  by  the  extremely 
independent,  not  to  say  free-and-easy,  life  which  was 
led  by  his  two  daughters. 

Regina  herself  was  very  strong  on  this  point.  ''I 
like  to  hear  everything  that  my  girls  tell  me,"  she 
said,  in  discussing  the  question  about  this  time  with 
the  doctor's  wife,  ''but  I  don't  demand  it  as  a  right. 
Nobody  would  demand  of  a  boy  of  nearly  eighteen 
that  he  should  tell  his  mother  everything  that  he  has 
said,  done  and  thought  during  the  twenty-four  hours 
of  the  day.  Why  shouldn't  a  girl  be  brought  up  on 
the  same  system  ? ' ' 


56  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

"It  is  not  the  custom,  that's  all.  I  was  amenable 
to  my  mother,"  Mrs.  M'Quade  replied,  ''and  I  expect 
my  daughter  to  be  amenable  to  me.  It  is  not  a  ques- 
tion of  want  of  independence;  the  child  is  inde- 
pendent enough — but  a  girl's  mind  and  a  boy's 
mind  are  not  the  same,  they're  different." 

"Only  because  men  and  foolish  mothers  have  made 
them  so,"  persisted  Eegina. 

"Ah,  well,  you  and  I  agree  to  differ  on  those  points, 
— don't  we,  Mrs.  Whittaker?  Heaven  forbid  that  I 
should  make  my  girl  less  independent  than  I  would 
wish  to  be  myself,  but  to  shut  the  mother  out  of  her 
life  is  no  particular  sign  of  a  girl's  independence — at 
least,  that  is  the  way  in  which  I  look  at  it.  Then  I 
suppose,"  went  on  the  doctor's  wife,  "that  you  will,  a 
little  later  on,  allow  your  girls  to  have  a  latchkey  ? ' ' 

"Certainly,  if  they  wish  to  have  a  latchkey.  Why 
not?"  Mrs.  Whittaker  demanded.  "I  should  not 
expect  them  to  come  in  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing because  I  gave  them  the  privilege  of  a  latchkey. 
If  they  misused  the  privilege,  I  should  take  it  away 
from  them." 

"You  are  beyond  me,"  the  doctor's  wife  cried. 
"With  regard  to  my  Georgie,  all  I  can  say  is,  that 
until  she  is  married  she  will  have  to  live  just  as  I 
lived  until  I  was  married;  that  is  to  say,  she  will  do 
what  I  tell  her,  she  will  wear  what  I  advise  her  to 
wear,  or  what  I  give  her  to  wear;  she  will  have  a 
very  good  time,  but  she  will  not  have  a  separate 
existence  from  mine  until  she  goes  into  a  home  of 
her  own,  or  until  I  am  carried  out  to  my  last  long 
resting-place." 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  57 

"We  are  good  friends,"  said  Regina,  with  an  air  of 
superb  tolerance,  ''we  are  good  friends,  Mrs.  M'Quade, 
and  I  hope  we  shall  always  continue  so;  but  in  some 
of  our  ideas  we  are  diametrically  opposed  to  each 
other,  and  we  must  agree  to  differ. ' ' 

But  to  go  back  to  the  question  of  the  entrance  of 
Maud  Whittaker  into  society,  not  a  little  to  her  par- 
ents' surprise,  Maud  absolutely  declined  to  do  any- 
thing of  the  kind. 

"Come  out — go  into  society!"  she  echoed.  "Oh, 
there  will  be  time  enough  for  that  when  Ju  is 
ready. ' ' 

"Julia?  Why,  she  is  two  years  younger  than 
you,"  Mrs.  Whittaker  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  dearest,  I  know  it;  but  I  am  young  for  my 
age  and  Julia  is  old  for  hers.  If  she  comes  out  in 
another  year,  I  can  wait  until  she  is  ready." 

"But  why?     I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!" 

"I  am  not  very  great  on  society,"  said  Maud.  "I 
would  rather  wait  until  Ju  is  fully  fledged." 

"And  you  will  stay  at  school?" 

"Yes,  I'd  just  as  soon,  only  when  one  comes  to 
think  of  it,  I  've  learnt  all  they  can  teach  me,  as  far  as 
I  know.  We  are  both  of  us  much  too  big  to  be  at 
that  school — it's  a  perfect  farce.  Why  don't  you  take 
us  away  and  give  us  a  course  of  lessons  ?  That  is  the 
proper  thing  to  do-^like  they  do  in  Paris.  Or  why 
don't  you  send  us  to  Paris  for  a  year?  Then  we  may 
contrive  to  speak  French  that  is  French,  and  not 
Park  polyglot." 

"Maudie!"  cried  Regina. 

**Yes,  I  know,   dearest.     You  may  say  'Maudie!' 


58  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

but  facts  are  facts.  The  other  day,  being,  or  being 
supposed  to  be,  the  best  French  speaker  in  the  school, 
I  was  put  up  to  talk  to  a  French  lady  who  was  stay- 
ing at  the  Vicarage.  You  know  Mrs.  Charlton  speaks 
French  like  a  native — indeed,  I  think  she  has  French 
relations,  and  I  think  this  was  an  old  schoolfellow. 
Anyway,  I  was  put  up  to  talk  to  her  as  being  the 
show  girl  at  French  conversation.'' 

"Well?"  Regina's  tone  was  as  the  sniff  of  a  war- 
horse  who  scents  the  battle  from  afar. 

"I  couldn't  make  head  or  tail  of  her,"  said  Maudie. 
*'Ju  did — at  least,  in  a  kind  of  way  she  did.  All  the 
same  she  had  to  repeat  everything  she  said  three 
times  over,  and  then  whatever-her-name-was  had  to 
make  shots  at  her  meaning." 

' '  But,  my  dear  children, ' '  exclaimed  Regina,  aghast, 
*'I  hear  you  talking  French  to  each  other  every 
day!" 

*'Yes,  I  know,"  said  Ju;  "but  you  hear  us  talking 
something  that  isn't  French." 

"My  education,"  said  Regina,  "did  not  include 
many  modern  subjects.  That  was  one  reason  why  I 
was  so  very  anxious  that  you  two  should  learn 
French  and  German." 

"Then  you  had  better  send  us  to  Paris — because 
French  is  just  what  we  cannot  speak.  When  we 
want  to  talk  without  the  servants  knowing,  we  speak 
what  we  call  the  Park  polyglot,  but  it  doesn't  go 
down  with  French  people.  I  could  see  that  that 
friend  of  Mrs.  Charlton's  caught  a  word  hers  and 
there,  and  her  native  wit  supplied  the  rest." 

"Perhaps  she  was  not  a  person  of  position,  and  did 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  59 

not  speak  good  French,"  said  Regina,  who  was  loath 
to  admit  that  a  child  of  hers  could  do  anything  badly. 

''Oh,  not  a  bit  of  it!  Mrs.  Charlton  kept  calling 
her  Comtesse.    She  was  all  right." 

''And  how  did  Miss  Drummond  come  off?" 

"Oh,  well,  Miss  Drummond  speaks  a  little  honest 
English-French,  which  has  no  pretense  of  being  the 
real  thing." 

It  is  not  surprising  that  after  this,  Regina 's  two 
girls  were  withdrawn  from  the  school  at  Northampton 
Park,  and  were,  as  she  particularly  told  everybody, 
by  their  own  request  sent  to  a  school  kept  by  a 
French  lady  on  the  outskirts  of  Paris,  to  be  particular 
in  that  off-shoot  of  Paris  which  Regina  called 
"Nully." 

During  the  year  that  followed,  Regina  worked 
harder  than  ever;  indeed,  even  her  complacent 
husband  now  and  again  uttered  a  mild  protest  that 
his  wife  should  be  absolutely  absorbed  by  work 
which  brought  him  neither  comfort  nor  emolument. 

"I  had  a  wife,  once,"  he  said  in  joke  to  the  doctor, 
one  night  when  the  M'Quades  were  dining  at  Ye 
Dene ;  ' '  but  now  I  often  think  I  Ve  only  got  a  Chair- 
man of  Committee." 

Nevertheless,  he  said  it  with  an  air  of  pride,  and 
later,  when  Regina  asked  him  seriously  whether  he 
would  prefer  that  she  should  give  up  her  public 
duties  and  once  more  merge  her  identity  into  his,  he 
exclaimed,  "God  forbid!  What  makes  you  happy, 
my  dear,  makes  me  happy,  as  long  as  you  still  regard 
me  as  the  linch-pin  of  your  existence. ' ' 

^'I  do,  my  dear  Alfie,  I  do,"  she  cried.     "Indeed 


60  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

I'm  the  same  Queenie  that  you  married  all  those 
years  ago.  My  heart  has  never  altered  or  changed 
in  the  very  least.  No  other  man  has  ever  crossed 
its  threshold  since  you  first  took  possession  of 
it." 

'*As  long  as  you  feel  that,  my  dear  girl,"  he  re- 
turned, putting  his  arm  about  her  ample  waist  and 
looking  at  her  with  fond  eyes  of  loving,  if  somewhat 
sleepy,  devotion,  "as  long  as  you  feel  like  that,  you 
can  do  what  work  you  like  and  have  what  interests 
you  like.  And  good  luck  go  with  you,  for  I  am  sure 
you  must  be  a  great  comfort  to  a  good  many  peo- 
ple." 

And  Regina  did  work,  like  the  traditional  negro 
slave.  Still,  she  never  neglected  her  home  duties. 
Regularly  every  week  she  wrote  to  her  girls,  and  some- 
times when  she  was  dog-tired  and  found  her  eyes 
closing  over  the  sheet  on  which  she  was  writing, 
she  shook  herself  quite  fiercely,  and  reminded  herself 
of  her  duty;  then  blamed  herself  passionately  that 
her  letters  to  her  girls,  her  own  girls,  who  thought 
of  her,  loved  her,  trusted  her,  made  her  the  recipient 
of  their  hopes,  doubts  and  fears,  joys  and  pleasures, 
and  even  such  simple  sorrows  as  had  as  yet  entered 
into  their  lives,  should  ever  have  come  to  be  a  duty — 
a  mere  duty. 

Poor  Regina!  I  will  not  pretend  that  the  'two 
girls  never  wished  to  hear  from  their  mother,  or  that 
they  would  not  have  been  bitterly  disappointed  had 
she  wholly  and  totally  neglected  them;  but  they 
were  happy  in  their  school  life,  and  they  did  not 
spend  their   time   watching   for  the   arrival   of   the 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  61 

facteur  de  poste,  as  Regina  fondly  believed  of  them. 
No,  they  quietly  accepted  their  mother's  letters  when 
they  received  them,  read  them,  discussed  them,  and 
then  put  them  on  one  side  to  think  about  them  no 
more. 

So  time  went  on  until  the  Christmas  holidays 
arrived.  The  two  girls  did  not  come  home  to  the 
Park  for  their  vacation,  but  their  father  and  mother 
made  a  little  break  in  their  respective  callings  and 
went  to  Paris,  where  the  girls  joined  them  at  a  modest 
but  comfortable  boarding-house. 

Now  the  boarding-house  had  been  recommended 
by  the  lady  of  the  school  at  which  the  sisters  were 
being  educated.  It  was  one  kept  by  a  French  lady, 
to  which  but  few  English  people  were  in  the  habit  of 
going.  Of  the  charming  language  of  our  neighbors 
across  the  Channel,  Alfred  AVhittaker  did  not  know 
one  word  beyond  a  form  of  salutation  which  he  called 
hong  jour!  and  an  equally  useful  word  which  he 
was  pleased  to  call  messy.  These  two  old  people 
were  therefore  absolutely  at  the  mercy  of  their  young 
daughters;  and  the  young  daughters  themselves 
thanked  Heaven  many  times,  during  the  three  weeks 
which  they  passed  together  in  Paris,  that  French 
had  not  been  included  in  the  curriculum  of  either 
their  father's  or  mother's  education.  Oh,  they  meant 
no  harm,  don't  think  it  for  a  moment.  There  was  no 
harm  in  either  the  one  or  the  other.  They  were 
modern,  human  girls,  into  whom  a  life  of  independ- 
ence had  been  instilled  as  a  religion.  Independent 
their  mother  wished  them  to  be,  and  independent 
they  were  to  an  abnormal  and  an  aggressive  degree. 


62  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OP 

They  were  as  sharp  as  needles,  exactly  as  their  old 
schoolfellow  had  said  years  before ;  they  had  acquired 
a  knowledge  of  Paris  which  was  simply  extraordinary 
considering  that  they  had  been  immured  in  a 
pensionnat  for  demoiselles.  They  knew  all  the 
great  emporiums  quite  intimately,  and  having  ex- 
tracted some  money  from  their  father  on  the  score 
that  it  was  no  use  their  mother  coming  to  Paris  with- 
out buying  clothes,  and  also  that  their  own  wardrobes 
required  renewing,  they  whisked  their  mother  from 
the  Louvre,  to  the  Bon  Marche,  from  the  Bon  Marche 
to  the  Mimosa,  and  even  got  wind  of  that  wonderful 
old  market  down  in  the  Temple,  where  the  Jews 
hold  high  revel  between  the  hours  of  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning  and  noon. 

What  a  time  it  was.  ''My  girls,''  said  Regina  to 
an  elderly  English  lady  with  whom  she  foregathered 
in  one  of  the  pretty  little  white  cremeries  in  the  Rue 
de  la  Paix,  ''speak  French  like  natives.  I  was 
educated  in  all  sorts  of  ways — I  have  taken  degrees 
and  done  all  sorts  of  things  that  most  women  don't 
do — ^but  when  you  put  me  down  in  Paris,  I  am  utterly 
undone.  I  never  realized  before  what  a  terrible  thing 
want  of  education  is." 

"And  yet  you  have  taken  degrees,"  said  the  lady, 
admiringly. 

"Yes,  but  they  are  not  much  good  when  you  come 
to  Paris.  But  my  daughters,"  she  added,  with  pride, 
* '  speak  French  like  Parisians. ' ' 

It  was  a  little  wide  of  the  mark.  The  girls  did 
speak  French  with  considerable  fluency,  and  they  had 
the  advantage  of  not  being  shy,  and  of  never  allowing 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  63 

want  of  knowledge  to  keep  them  back  from  com- 
municating with  their  fellow-beings.  And  as  they 
gabbled  on,  as  Alfred  Whittaker  frequently  de- 
clared, nineteen  to  the  dozen,  Regina  stood  by  and 
admired. 


64  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 


CHAPTEE     VII 


'LITTLE   PIGLETS   OF   ENGLISH" 


I  doubt  if  even  a  universal  entente  cordiale  will  ever  make  the 
French  mind  and  the  English  mind  think  alike. 

Now  it  happened  before  Regina  and  lier  husband 
left  Paris  that  Madame  de  la  Barre  intimated  through 
the  girls  that  she  would  like  to  have  a  little  con- 
fidential chat  with  her  pupils'  mother. 

''Mother,"  said  Julia  to  Regina,  "Madame  wants 
to  see  you." 

' '  She  has  seen  me, ' '  said  Regina. 

''Yes,  yes,  mother,  but  she  wants  to  see  you  toute 
seule.  I  suppose  she  wants  to  tell  you  some  delin- 
quencies of  ours,  or  something." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Regina. 

"Well,  dear,  you  must  expect  us  to  be  human,  like 
other  girls.  We  have  never  been  in  any  trouble  since 
we  came  here,  and  I  don't  know  why  she  wants  to 
see  you,  but,  anyway,  she  asks  if  you  will  do  her  the 
favor  of  taking  tea  with  her  to-morrow  afternoon  at 
four  o'clock." 

"I  will,"  said  Regina. 

"She  doesn't  speak  one  word  of  English,  you 
know,"  said  Julia. 


MRS.  AVHITTAKER  65 

"We  shall  communicate  somehow,"  said  Regina, 
with  a  superb  air. 

"I  don't  know  how,"  said  Julia,  ''since  you  can't 
speak  two  words  of  French — " 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Reg'ina,  pointedly. 
' '  Well,  excuse  me  too,  mother — I  didn  't  mean  to  be 
rude.    But  your  French  isn't  equal  to  your  Latin,  is 
it?" 

"I  will  be  there,"   said   Regina,   with   a   distinct 
accession  of  dignity. 

And  so,  punctual  to  the  moment,  Regina  appeared 
in  the  salon  of  the  schoolmistress.     Their  mode  of 
communication  was   original,   it    was    also    a    little 
difficult,    but    both   being    determined   women,    they 
overcame    the    difficulties    of    the  situation    with    a 
supreme  indifference  to  the  effect  the  one  might  have 
upon  the  other.    As  a  matter  of  fact,  Julia  had  been 
a  little  wide  of  the  mark  when  she  had  declared  to 
her  mother  that  ^Madame  did  not  speak  one  word  of 
English.     ]\[adame  spoke  a  little  more  English  than 
Regina  spoke  French,  and  by  a  series  of  contortions, 
gesticulations,   and   other   efforts   which   I   need   not 
attempt    to    reproduce   here,    ]\  la  dame    de    la    Barre 
contrived   to   make   known   to    Mrs.    Whittaker   her 
object  in  seeking  for  the  interview.     And  her  object 
in  seeking  the  interview  was  that  she  should  explain 
to  her  that  she  considered  the  taste  in  dress  of  the 
demoiselles  Whittaker  to  be  something  too  atrocious 
for  words. 

"C'est  affreux!  c'est  affreux/'  she  exclaimed,  when 
she  found  that  Regina  was  a  little  dense  of  under- 
standing.   ' '  Horreeble — horreeble  ! ' ' 
5 


66  THE    LITTLE   VANITIES    OP 

''I  have  never,"  said  Eegina,  speaking  very  slowly 
and  distinctly,  and  with  an  indulgent  air  as  if  she 
were  commnnicating  with  someone  a  little  short  of 
being  an  idiot,  "I  have  never  trained  my  children  to 
care  about  those  matters." 

"But  they  are  young  ladies!  It  is  most 
important,"  Madame  exclaimed,  with  quite  a  tragic 
air. 

' '  It  will  come, ' '  said  Regina,  waving  her  substantial 
hand  with  a  vast  gesture,  as  if  good  taste  in  dressing 
wa^  likely  to  drop  from  the  clouds,  "it  will  come. 
I  never  worry  about  things  that  are  not  essential. 

"But  it  is  essential  for  a  young  lady— a  demoiselle 
— it  is — it  is  for  her  life. ' ' 

Poor  Madame  de  la  Barrel  She  tried  very  hard 
indeed  to  explain  that  the  many  purchases  made  by 
the  young  ladies  were  not  such  as  should  have  been 
made  by  young  girls  not  yet  entered  into  the  great 
world.     She  made  no  impression  upon  Regina. 

"These  are  small  matters,"  she  said,  with  a 
magnificent  air;  not  essentials  in  any  way.  They 
will  make  mistakes  at  first — I  don't  doubt  it, 
Madame — we  have  all  done  it  in  our  day,  but  they 
will  learn,  oh,  they  will  learn." 

Madame  shrugged  her  shoulders.  She  felt  that  she 
was  dealing  with  a  fool  of  the  first  water,  upon  whom 
valuable  breath  was  wasted.  After  all,  these  were 
English  girls.  What  did  it  matter^  They  were 
going  to  live  in  a  land  where  it  is  the  rule  for 
women  to  make  themselves  such  objects  as  Madame 
Whittaker  herself.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that 
when  Mrs.  Whittaker  had  finally  swept  out  of  the 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  67 

schoolmistress's  presence,  Madame  de  la  Barre 
sat  down  and  closed  her  eyes  with  a  genuine 
shudder. 

''What  does  it  matter,  these  pigs  of  English,  what 
they  wear !  Thou  art  too  good-natured,  Heloise, ' '  she 
went  on,  apostrophizing  herself.  ' '  Thou  canst  forbid 
these  little  piglets  of  English  from  wearing  their  too 
disgraceful  garments.  What  happens  to  them  after 
they  have  left  thy  roof  is  no  concern  of  thine.  Thou 
art  too  good-natured,  Heloise!" 

So  the  "little  piglets  of  English"  continued  un- 
checked in  their  career  of  vicious  millinery,  and 
when  the  time  came  for  them  to  return  to  the  paternal 
roof,  they  went,  taking  with  them  a  stock  of  garments 
calculated  to  make  the  Park,  as  they  put  it,  ''sit  up." 

And  truly  the  Park  did  sit  up,  for  the  appearance 
of  Regina's  two  girls  was  something  quite  out  of  the 
common. 

"It  is  the  latest  fashion,"  said  Regina,  with  an  air 
of  conviction  to  a  neighbor  who  remarked  that 
Maudie's  hat  was  a  little  startling.  "The  girls 
brought  all  their  things  from  Paris.  It  is  the  seat 
of  good  dressing." 

You  will  observe  that  Regina  never  left  any  doubt 
in  expressing  her  opinions.  Hers  was  a  positive 
nature.  She  would  say,  "My  daughters  are 
beautiful,  my  daughters  are  elegant,  my  daughters 
attract  an  enormous  amount  of  attention, ' '  but  never 
"I  think  my  daughters  are"—  this,  that,  or  the 
other. 

So  she  gave  forth,  with  the  air  of  one  whose  fiat 
could    not    be    questioned,  the    intimation    that    as 


68  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

Maudie  and  Julia's  tilings  had  come  from  Paris, 
they  must  be  the  dernier  cri. 

And  the  Park  thought  they  were  horrid. 

Poor  Regina !  She  was  very  happy  in  the  return 
of  her  girls,  so  happy  that  she  took  a  little  holiday 
from  her  public  w^ork,  and  spent  a  whole  week  in 
talking  things  over,  in  arranging  and  rearranging 
their  rooms,  in  examining  all  their  purchases,  in 
discussing  wiiat  kind  of  life  they  should  live  in  the 
immediate  future. 

''Now,  what  are  your  own  ideas T'  she  demanded, 
on  the  second  day  after  the  return  home  of  the  girls, 
when  they  had  settled  down  to  tea  and  muffins. 

JMaudie  looked  at  Julia.  As  usual,  Julia  answered 
for  IMaudie.  Eegina  herself  was  full  of  suppressed 
eagerness. 

"Well,  if  you  really  wish  us  to  tell  you  exactly 
what  we  do  want,  mother,"  said  Julia,  "we  will  put 
it  in  a  nutshell.  We  want  father  to  give  us  an  allow- 
ance. ' ' 

"A  decent  allowance,"  put  in  Maudie. 

"Yes,  yes,  dears;  yes,  yes,"  murmured  Regina, 
who  had  prepared  herself  for  an  unfolding  of  great 
schemes,  such  as  would  have  swayed  her  at  her  girls' 
age. 

"The  kind  of  allowance,"  Julia  went  on,  "that  he 
ought  to  give  to  girls  of  our  age  and  position — that 
is  to  say,  of  our  age  and  his  position.  Then  we 
sha'n't  go  making  sillies  of  ourselves;  we  shall  know 
how  to  cut  our  coat  according  to  our  cloth. 

"And  how  much  do  you  think  such  an  allowance 
ought  to  be  r '  Regina  inquired. 


MRS.    AYHITTAKER  69 

''Oh,  about  a  hundred  a  year  each,"  said  Julia. 

''A  hundred  a  year?  That's  a  very  ample  allow- 
ance.   I  never  spend  more  than  that  myself." 

"Well,  mother,  it  just  depends  on  what  you  want 
us  to  be.  If  you  want  us  to  be  smart,  well-dressed 
girls  with  some  position  in  the  world,  we  couldn't  do 
it  under.  We  have  talked  it  over  thoroughly  with 
French  girls  who  know  what  society  is,  and  wdth 
English  girls  of  the  same  sort,  and  they  all  say  that  a 
hundred  a  year  is  the  least  a  girl  can  dress  herself 
decently  on." 

' '  And  that  would  include —  ? ' '  Regina  questioned. 

"It  would  include  our  clothes,  our  club  subscrip- 
tions— " 

"Your  whatr' 

"Our  club  subscriptions." 

"Oh,  you  are  going  to  join  a  club,  are  you?" 

"Of  course.  You  have  a  club,  mother.  We  want 
some  place  Avhere  we  can  rest  the  soles  of  our  feet 
when  we  are  in  London.  It  isn't  as  if  you  lived  right 
in  Mayfair,  you  know." 

"No,  no;  you  are  quite  right.  I  have  no  objection 
to  your  joining  a  club,  or  doing  anything  else  that  is 
reasonable.  So  it  would  include  your  club  subscrip- 
tions?" 

"Oh  yes,  it  would  have  to  do  that.  And  our  per- 
sonal expenses.  We  shouldn't  have  to  look  to  father 
for  any  money  other  than  an  occasional  present  which 
he  might  like  to  give  us  if  we  were  good,  or  if  he  could 
afford  it;   or  on  some  special  occasion." 

''I  see." 

**Then  we  should  like  to  have — er — er"  and  here 


70  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

Julia  stopped  short  and  eyed  her  mother  with  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  apprehension. 

"Well,  go  on,  my  darling.  You  would  like  to  have 
whatr*' 

''We  should  like  to  have  a  sitting-room  of  our 
own. ' ' 

"Oh!" 

"To  which,"  Julia  went  on,  emboldened  by  her 
mother's  mild  expression  of  face,  "to  which  we  could 
ask  our  friends  without  upsetting  the  house,  and — 
and — and — ' ' 

"Go  on,"  said  Regina. 

"Well,  you  see,  most  girls  nowadays  have  an  At 
Home  day  of  their  own — just  for  their  own  friends, 
irrespective  of  their  mothers. ' ' 

' '  I  haven 't  time  for  an  At  Home  day, ' '  said  Regina. 
' '  I  used  to  have  one,  but  I  gave  it  up  when  you  went 
to  Paris." 

"I  think  that  was  rather  foolish  of  you,  mother," 
said  Julia.  "A  woman  is  nothing  nowadays  if  she 
doesn't  have  an  At  Home  day.  I  don't  quite  see  my- 
self what  all  your  work  brings  you." 

"Brings  me?"  echoed  Regina. 

"Yes,  brings  you.  What's  the  good  of  working  day 
and  night,  toiling  into  the  small  hours  of  the  morning 
for  a  lot  of  other  people?  What  do  they  ever  do  for 
you,  mother?" 

"Do  for  me?"  Regina  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
become  an  echo  of  her  own  daughter.  *'I  don't  know 
that  anybody  does  anything  for  me." 

"No;  it  is  always  Mrs.  Alfred  Whittaker  toiling 
and  fagging  and  slaving  for  other  people's  glorifica- 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  71 

tion.  I  don't  see  the  force  of  it.  It  seems  to  us," 
she  went  on,  with  a  certain  air  of  severity  which 
ought  to  have  amused  Regina,  but  did  nothing  of  the 
kind,  "it  seems  to  us  that  you  get  the  worst  of  it  in 
every  way.  We  think,  mother,  that  you  ought  to  be 
very  glad  that  we  have  come  home  to  take  care  of 
you." 

"Oh!    Then  you,"  said  Regina,   with  a  tinge  of 
sarcasm  in  her  tones,  "you  and  Maudie  are  to  have 
all  the  independence,  and  I  am  to  be  taken  care  of  ? 
That  is  very  kind  of  you.    Now,  once  for  all  let  me 
speak,  and  then  for  ever  after  hold  my  peace.    I  give 
you,  as  long  as  you  remain  in  your  father's  house,  I 
give  you  the  same  amount  of  liberty  that  I  had  in 
mine  and  which  I  wish  to  have  for  myself  now,  but 
I  give  it  you  on  one  condition,  which  is  that  you  never 
abuse  it.    If  ever  you  should  disappoint  me  by  doing 
so — which  not  for  one  moment  do   I   anticipate — I 
should  instantly  withdraw  that  free  gift  of  liberty. 
But  I  want  you  to  remember  that  while  you  have  your 
liberty,  I  still  need  and  require  mine.    One  is  so  apt 
to  forget,  and  particularly  when  one  is  devotedly  at- 
tached to  anyone,  the  rights  and  liberties  of  others. 
You  are  quite  welcome,  my  children,  to  have  your  day 
at  home,  and  your  father  will  certainly  not  wish  to 
curtail  you  in  the  matter  of  provision  therefor.     T 
shall  not  expect  that  your  little  entertainments  will 
come  out  of  your  own  personal  income.    At  any  time 
that  you  seek  my  advice  on  any  matter,  it  will  be  there 
ready  for  your  use.    I  shall  never  give  it  to  you  un- 
sought,  unless    I   should   see   you   going   absolutely 
wrong.    I  will  only  ask  you  to  remember  that  before 


72  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

all  things  I  have  striven,  since  you  were  tiny  babies, 
first  and  foremost  to  preserve  the  originality  of  your 
minds.  The  more  original  you  are,  the  more  com- 
pletely will  you  please  me.  There  is  so  much  in  the 
circumstances  and  in  the  lives  of  women  that  tend  to 
trammel  and  to  stifle  their  better  judgment  and  their 
better  selves,  that  they  have  but  little  chance  of  letting 
any  originality  of  mind  which  they  may  possess  have 
fair  play.  You  are  singularly  blessed  in  having  an 
enlightened  father  and  mother,  who  wish  you  to  be 
in  most  respects  as  free  as  air.  Take  care,  therefore, 
children,  that  you  don't  lose  sight  of  this  precious 
opportunity.  Let  honor  and  originality  go  hand  in 
hand.  With  your  gifts  and  your  beauty,  you  must 
land  yourselves  upon  the  very  crest  of  the  wave. 
There,"  she  went  on,  letting  the  tension  of  her  feel- 
ings find  relief  in  a  little  laugh,  ''there  ends  my  little 
homily!"  And  she  stretched  forth  her  firm  white 
hand  and  helped  herself  to  the  last  piece  of  muffin  in 
the  dish. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  73 


CHAPTER    VIII 

ca:;did  ofinions 

We  train  up  our  children,  kindly  or  harshly,  according  to  our 
temperaments,  that  they  may  walk  along  a  certain  road. 
The  road  is  usually  one  of  several,  and  it  is  an  almost 
invariable  chance  that  our  children  will  take  one  contrary 
to  that  of  our  choice. 

Let  there  be  no  mistake  about  the  Whittaker  girls. 
They  were  not  in  any  way  deceived  or  blinded  by 
their  mother's  partiality  for  them. 

' '  There  is  one  thing  you  and  I  have  got  to  make  up 
our  minds  to,  ^laudie, ' '  said  Julia,  the  day  after  they 
had  had  the  little  serious  talk  with  their  mother. 
"It's  one  thing  to  climb  up  a  wall,  it's  another  to 
topple  over  on  the  other  side.  If  we  don't  look  out 
what  we  are  doing,  we  shall  topple  over  the  other  side 
of  our  wall. ' ' 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Maudie;  "at  least 
not  quite." 

"Well,  it's  like  this,"  remarked  Julia.  "We  have 
got  to  take  everything  that  mother  says  as  partly 
being  mother's  way.  I  don't  know  whether  you  have 
ever  noticed  it,  Maudie,  but  mother  never  half  does 
things.  That's  why  she's  such  a  splendid  worker  on 
all  these  committees  she  goes  in  for.    Llother  calls  us 


74  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

beauties ;  she  says  you  are  purely  Greek  in  type,  and 
that  I  am  a  cross  between  the  French  and  Irish  styles 
of  beauty.  Well,  that's  as  may  be.  We  can't  go 
against  mother;  it  would  be  rude — besides,  it 
wouldn't  be  any  good — but  you  and  I  needn't  stuff 
each  other  up — or  even  ourselves  for  that  matter  with 
the  idea  that  we  are  going  to  set  the  world  on  fire  with 
our  faces.    We  sha'n't,"  she  ended  conclusively. 

"I  think  you  are  rather  nice-looking,  Ju,"  said 
Maudie. 

"Do  you?  I  don't  agree  with  you.  But  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  As  to  your  being  purely  Greek 
— well,  don't  understand  that  either.  I  never  saw  a 
Greek  that  was  the  least  little  bit  like  you.  You  re- 
member those  girls  at  Madame 's?  AVhy,  they  had  a 
touch  of  the  East  about  them ;  they  were  next  door  to 
natives.  I  used  to  talk  to  them  about  it.  I  told  them 
that  I  never  knew  Greeks  were  so  dark — I  always  had 
an  idea  Greeks  were  fair  people — but  Zoe  declared 
they  were  the  common  or  garden  pattern,  and  that  a 
fair  Greek  was  a  thing  almost  unheard  of." 

' '  That 's  all  rubbish  and  nonsense ! ' '  said  Maudie  in 
a  more  dominant  tone  than  was  her  wont.  '^Do  you 
remember  Maurice  Dolmanides?" 

' '  The  man  who  was  at  the  boarding-house  in  Paris  ? 
Of  course  I  do." 

' '  Well,  he  was  ginger. ' ' 

*'So  he  was — yes.  And  he  was  a  Greek,  wasn't 
he?  All  the  same,  Maudie,  he  had  a  Scotch  mother, 
you  know. ' ' 

*  *  Ah,  I  see.    Yes,  that  does  make  a  difference. ' ' 

**I  assure  you,"  Julia  went  on,  ''that  I  talked  it 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  75 

over  with  Zoe  and  Olga,  and  they  both  declared  that 
they  were  the  ordinary  Greek  type — round  features, 
round  black  eyes,  masses  of  coal-black  hair,  palest  of 
olive  skins.  There's  a  touch  of  the  Orient  about  it. 
But  you,  you  are  blonde ;  your  nose  has  got  a  bump 
in  the  middle  of  it,  your  mouth  is  far  from  Greek — " 

' '  Oh,  my  mouth, ' '  cried  Maudie,  with  a  look  at  her- 
self in  the  glass,  *'my  mouth  is  a  regular  shark's 
mouth!" 

At  this  the  two  girls  fell  to  laughing  as  heartily  as 
if  they  were  discussing  the  merits  of  some  animal 
rather  than  one  of  themselves. 

"In  short,"  Julia  went  on,  when  they  had  some- 
what recovered  themselves,  "in  short,  you  and  I  have 
got  to  consider,  first  and  foremost,  what  we  can  do  to 
be  original.  We  are  not  beauties,  although  mother, 
poor  dear  lady,  persists  that  we  have  inherited  an 
amount  of  beauty  which  is  absolutely  fatal.  Dress 
us  in  an  ordinary  manner  and  we  should  look  horrid. 
If  we  want  to  be  any  good  in  the  world  at  all,  we  must 
do  something  a  bit  out  of  the  common." 

"Follow  in  our  mother's  footsteps?"  said  Maudie. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  What  good  does  mother  do  by  all 
her  strenuous  efforts  to  improve  the  condition  of 
women?  Is  mother's  condition  one  that  requires  im- 
provement ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Is  our  condition  one  that 
requires  improvement?    Not  a  bit  of  it." 

"We  don't  know  yet,"  said  Maudie  in  a  quiet,  sen- 
sible tone. 

"No,  we  don't.  And  nntil  we  get  married  and  see 
how  we  get  on  with  our  respective  husbands,  we  shall 
have  to  remain  in  our  ignorance.     One  thing  is  very 


76  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

certain,  Maudie,  that  neither  you  nor  I  are  girls 
that  can  go  in  leading-strings.  We  have  been  made 
original  and  unconventional  and  independent ;  in  fact, 
originality  and  unconventionalism  and  independence 
have  been  rammed  down  our  throats  from  the  time 
we  could  remember  anything.  It  has  been  the  key- 
note of  mother's  life.  But  we  have,  before  we  can  do 
anything  in  our  own  set,  to  see  to  our  room  and  ar- 
range all  our  things.  Now  that  old  playroom  is  just 
as  we  left  it.  It's  an  awfully  jolly  room,  capable  of 
great  things  in  the  way  of  adornment.  We  must  get 
daddy  to  have  it  done  up  for  us,  and  to  give  us  a  cer- 
tain amount  for  furnishing  it.  And  we  must  have  a 
piano. ' ' 

"A  piano?"  said  Maudie.  "I  don't  think  a  piano 
is  at  all  a  necessary  article.  Clean  paper  and  paint, 
a  decent  something  to  walk  on — yes,  that  we  can 
fairly  ask  father  to  give  us,  and  I'm  sure  he  won't 
grudge  it;  but  seeing  that  neither  you,  nor  I,  nor 
mother  knows  one  tune  from  another,  and  that  there 
is  a  piano  that  cost  a  hundred  and  twenty  guineas  in 
the  drawing-room,  I  don't  think  it  w^ould  be  fair  to 
ask  father  to  spend  even  half  that  sum  in  such  an 
instrument  for  our  exclusive  use." 

** Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  Julia.  '*I  must 
think  that  over.  But  a  piano  we  must  have.  If  we 
are  going  to  have  an  At  Home  day  we  must  be  able 
to  have  music,  even  though  we  can't  make  it  our- 
selves." 

'*But  why  not  have  our  At  Home  day  in  mother's 
drawing-room  ? ' ' 

**  Because  that  would  very  quickly  degenerate  into 


MRS.  WHITTAKER.  77 

mother's  At  Home  day,  and  yon  know  what  mother's 
At  Home  day  means — seven  women,  two  girls,  and 
half  a  man.  No,  if  we  have  an  At  Home  day  of  our 
own,  it  must  be  in  our  own  room.  I'll  tell  you  what 
we'll  do,  Maudie,  we'll  go  up  to  town  and  choose  a 
little  piano  somewhere,  the  kind  of  piano  that  you 
see  in  the  Army  and  Nav^^  Stores'  list  as  suitable 
for  yachts,  and  we'll  pay  for  it  out  of  our  allow- 
ance." 

"But  we  can't." 

"Yes,  we  can.  We  can  take  three  years  to  pay  for 
it.  If  we  spend  thirty  pounds  on  a  piano,  that's  quite 
enough.  People  can't  walk  into  your  room  and 
ask  you  whether  your  piano  cost  thirty  pounds  or 
ninety  pounds.  It  wouldn't  be  very  much  out  of  our 
allowance  for  each  of  us  to  pay  fifteen  pounds  in  three 
years — only  five  pounds  a  year — then  the  piano  will 
be  ours." 

"And  suppose  one  of  us  gets  married?"  asked 
j\Iaudie. 

"Well,  if  one  of  us  gets  married,  she  must  leave  it 
for  the  other  one." 

"And  the  other  one?" 

"Well,  if  the  other  one  gets  married,  she  must 
leave  it  for  the  use  of  the  home." 

"Oh,  I  see." 

"Well,"  said  Julia,  briskly,  putting  down  the  book 
that  she  held  in  her  hand,  "let  us  go  into  the  play- 
room and  just  cast  our  eyes  over  its  capabilities." 

So  the  two  girls  went  off  to  their  old  playroom, 
which  was  just  as  they  had  left  it  when  they  had 


78  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

departed   for   their   school   in   Paris   two   years  be- 
fore. 

"It's  a  good  shape,"  said  Julia.  ''That  bow 
window  and  those  two  little  windows  on  that  side 
give  it  great  possibilities.  We  ought  to  have  a  cosy 
corner  there." 

''That  will  cost  five-and-twenty  guineas,"  said 
Maudie. 

"Oh  no;  I  mean  a  rigged-up  cosy  corner.  We'll 
take  in  Home  Blither  for  a  few  weeks.  We  are  sure 
to  get  an  idea  out  of  that." 

"I've  never,"  remarked  Maudie,  "seen  anything 
about  a  cosy  corner  in  Home  Blither  that  did  not 
combine  a  washstand  with  it.  We  don't  want  a 
washstand,  Julia." 

"No,  not  in  this  room — certainly  not.  I  propose 
that  we  have  a  delicate  French  paper  with  bouquets 
of  roses — perhaps  a  white  satin  stripo  with  bouquets 
of  roses  tied  up  with  delicate  blue  or  mauve  ribbons. 
That  will  give  us  an  interesting  background  to  work 
upon. ' ' 

"Then  for  the  curtains?"  said  Maudie. 

"Well,  for  the  curtains  I  should  have — well,  now, 
what  should  I  have?  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  I  should 
have  chintz. ' ' 

"I  shouldn't;  I  should  have  cretonne.    It  will  look 


warmer. ' ' 


"We  don't  want  to  look  warm;  we  want  to  look 
dainty.    Or  we  might  have  lace  curtains." 

"Yes,  we  might.  And  we  might  have  those  lovely 
dewdrops  to  hang  in  front  of  the  window,  but  of 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  79 

course  it  looks  into  the  garden,  and  it  would  be 
rather  a  pity  to  shut  the  garden  out  in  any 
way. ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Julia.  "A  little  desk  there,"  she  went 
on;  "white  wood,  you  know,  the  kind  of  thing  that 
you  get  in  the  High  Street  all  ready  for  painting,  or 
poker  work.  We  might  sketch  all  over  it,  or  get  our 
friends  to  autxDgraph  it." 

"Autograph  it?" 

"Yes.  And  then  varnish  it  over  with  a  very  clear, 
colorless  varnish.  It  would  look  very  beautiful, 
and  it  would  be  original  too." 

"Yes,  it  would  be  original.  Supposing  we  have  all 
the  furniture  like  that?" 

"No,  no,  not  all  the  furniture — only  the  writ- 
ing-table. There's  something  appropriate  about 
autographs  on  a  writing-table,"  Julia   declared. 

Eventually  Mr.  Whittaker  agreed  to  have  the  room 
done  up  according  to  the  girls'  ideas,  and  to  give  them 
a  certain  sum  for  furnishing  it  according  to  their 
own  taste. 

"Now  I  do  beg,  dear  Alfie,"  said  Mrs.  Whittaker, 
who,  in  spite  of  her  desire  that  her  girls  should  be 
original,  was  a  person  who  loved  to  have  a  finger  in 
every  pie,  "now  I  do  beg,  Alfie,  that  you  will  not  be 
too  lavish.  Have  the  room  thoroughly  done  up 
according  to  their  ideas;  that  is  only  right.  I  like 
the  notion  of  delicate  bouquets  of  roses,  tied  together 
with  a  sky-blue  ribbon,  on  a  white  satin  stripe.  It 
is  elegant,  refined,  and  capable  of  great  things  in 
the  ereneral  effect.     I  would  have  a  suitable  ceiling 


80  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

paper  to  match,  and  yon  mnst  give  them  a  pretty 
electric  light  arrangement  in  place  of  this  simple  one. 
After  that,  leave  everything  to  the  girls.  Yes,  dears, 
the  paint  will  have  to  be  touched  up.  It  won't 
require  newly  painting,  because,  you  see,  it  has  been 
white,  and  it  is  not  in  very  bad  condition.  So  have 
it  entirely  done,  Alfie — ceiling,  walls,  paint — then  give 
them  a  sum  of  money,  just  enough  for  them  to  ex- 
ercise their  ingenuity  in  making  it  go  the  very 
furthest. '  * 

"I'll  give  you  thirty  pounds,"  said  Alfred  Whit- 
taker,  slapping  his  pocket  and  thrusting  his  hand  into 
it  with  an  air  of  firm  determination.  ' '  Thirty  pounds 
after  I  have  done  the  decoration,  and  no  more.  If 
you  can't  make  a  room  look  smart  with  thirty 
pounds,  you  don't  deserve  to  have  a  room  of  your 
own." 

"All  right,  daddy.  Thank  you  very  much,"  said 
Julia. 

"Yes,  daddy  dear,  we'll  make  it  do  very  nicely,'* 
said  Maudie. 

And  then  they  sat  down  to  hold  another  council  of 
war. 

** Maudie,"  said  Julia,  "thirty  pounds  won't  go 
very  far." 

"No,"  replied  Maudie.  "We  can't  possibly  buy  a 
carpet  under  ten  pounds  for  a  room  of  that 
size." 

''Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do— we'll 
polish  the  floor,  and  we'll  have  two  or  three  nice 
rugs.     We   shall   get  them  for  about  a  guinea   or 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  81 

thirty  shillings  apiece.  And  we  must  go  in  for 
bamboo. ' ' 

''Oh,  I  hate  bamboo,"  Maudie  cried. 

"We  could  enamel  it  white." 

"H'm — bamboo  enamelled  white,"  said  Maudie, 
dubiously;   "it  doesn't  sound  particularly   fascinat- 

"Well,  that  was  rather  a  nice  stand  we  saw  up  at 
Derry  &  Tom's  the  other  day,  wasn't  it,  with  three 
sticks  of  bamboo  arranged  so  as  to  hold  a  pot  in  the 
middle?  Enamelled  white  it  would  be  rather  fetch- 
ing, particularly  if  we  had  a  nice  trailing  plant  in  it. 
Then  we  've  got  to  get  a  fender ;  and  they  've  got  some 
lovely  basket  chairs  at  Barker's,  I  know  they  have; 
and  I  saw  some  tables  at  two-and-eleven  in  a  shop 
down  the  High  Street — I  don't  know  what  the  name 
is.  Oh,  we  shall  find  it  easy  enough;  you  can  do  a 
good  deal  at  furnishing  a  room  when  you  can  get  a 
table  for  two-and-eleven. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  daresay  you're  right.  You've  got  a  won- 
derful headpiece,  Ju.  Then,  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll 
do.  We'll  get  our  room  papered  and  painted,  and 
then  we'll  have  the  floor  done  up — that's  all  quite 
plain  sailing — and  then  we  shall  be  better  able  to 
decide  whether  we'll  have  a  small  square  of 
carpet  or  two  or  three  rugs.  We  needn't  have  very 
expensive  ones;  it  isn't  as  if  we  had  got  a  lot  of 
boys  to  come  clumping  about  with  muddy  boots,  is 
it?" 

"No,  there's  something  in  that.  And  I'll  tell  you 
what,  Maudie — if  we  have  chintz  for  the  curtains,  we 
could  have  chintz  covers  for  the  big  old  couch  and 
6 


82  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

the  large  armchair  that  we  had  in  the  room  from 
the  beginning.  One  thing  is  very  certain,"  Jnlia 
continued  impressively,  'Hhat  we  shall  have  to  weigh 
every  penny  before  we  spend  it." 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  83 


CHAPTER     IX 

THE  GIRLS  ^  DOMAIN 
We  learn  most  through  our  mistakes. 

You  know  what  the  British  workman  is.  Believe 
me,  that  the  particular  specimen  of  the  British  work- 
man who  haunts  Northampton  Park  has  no  fewer  sins 
than  his  fellow  who  inhabits  the  heart  of  London. 
The  clays  drag'ged  on,  dragged  on,  dragged  on.  Oh, 
that  lovely  sitting-room  of  Maudie  and  Julia  Whit- 
taker's  imagination,  day  by  day  it  seemed  as  if  it 
was  receding  further  and  further  into  the  Never- 
Never-Land. 

First  of  all,  there  was  a  difficulty  about  the  paper. 
After  a  week's  delay,  various  samples  of  paper  were 
submitted  to  them,  papers  that  were  marvellously 
cheap,  marvellously  dainty.  The  choice  being  left 
entirely  to  the  girls,  it  fell  upon  one  at  two-and-four 
the  piece.  It  was  an  elegant  paper ;  stripes  of  white 
satin  alternated  with  a  wide  white  rib,  upon  which 
were  flung  at  regular  intervals  delicate  bouquets  of 
banksia  roses  and  violets.  The  ribbon  which  tied 
each  bouquet  and  meandered  on  to  the  next  was  of  the 
most  delicate  blue.  The  ceiling  was  of  embossed  white 
satin  (apparently),  and  the  frieze,  which  was  rather 


84  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OP 

deep,  was  composed  of  long  festoons  of  the  tiny  roses 
caught  at  intervals  with  bunches  of  violets.  Oh, 
it  was  a  lovely  paper !  But  they  had  to  wait  for  it. 
For  some  occult  reason,  best  known  to  the  decorator 
who  had  undertaken  the  work  of  transforming  that 
particular  room  at  Ye  Dene — which,  by-the-bye,  the 
girls  determined  to  christen  the  parloir — that 
particular  paper  was  out  of  stock.  Impatient  Julia 
suggested  that  they  should  choose  another  one,  but 
the  decorator  blandly  informed  her  that  it  was  such  a 
favorate  with  fashionable  people  in  the  West  End 
that  the  manufacturers  were  reprinting,  and  he 
expected  the  consignment  for  their  room — which  he 
had  already  ordered — to  arrive  at  any  moment. 

And  the  days  went  by  after  the  manner  of  days 
when  there  is  a  little  house-decorating  on  hand.  The 
decorator  suggested  that  they  could  get  on  with  the 
rest  of  the  work,  so  on  a  duly-appointed  day  several 
gentlemen,  dressed  in  lily-white  garments,  arrived  and 
began  to  work  their  will  upon  the  empty  room.  They 
swept  the  chimney — not  the  lily-white  gentlemen,  but 
a  black  one  who  seemed  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with 
them ;  they  tore  off  the  existing  paper  and  they  washed 
the  ceiling,  and  then  they  went  away  and  thought 
about  things.  They  thought  about  things  for  several 
days,  until  at  last  the  Whittaker  girls  hied  them  to 
the  head  office  and  made  representation  to  the  master 
of  the  business.  Then  they  came  and  papered  half  the 
ceiling. 

*'How  lovely  it  looks,  doesn't  it?"  said  Maudie  to 
Julia. 

**It  would  look  lovelier  if  it  were  all  done.    I  expect 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  85 

we  shall  have  to  go  and  fetch  them  to  paper  the  other 
half." 

It  was  quite  true.  But  still,  bit  by  bit,  the  room 
progressed  towards  a  thing  of  beauty,  and  at  length, 
after  a  period  of  about  five  weeks,  the  foreman 
in  charge  of  the  work  announced  in  a  tone  of  triumph 
that  they  had  come  to  bid  the  household  at  Ye  Dene 
adieu.  He  didn't  put  it  in  those  words,  my  reader, 
but  that  v/as  his  meaning. 

* '  I  am  sure  we  are  very  much  obliged  to  you, ' '  said 
Julia.     "You  have  been  a  very  long  time  about  it." 

"Well,  lady,  the  workman  gets  blamed  when  the 
blame  belongs  to  somebody  else.  You  see,  we  had  to 
wait  for  the  paper,  and  when  we  got  the  paper  we 
had  to  wait  for  the  frieze,  and  then  when  we  got  the 
frieze  we  had  to  wait  for  that  bit  of  paint  just 
to  finish  off  the  doors.  Still,  it'll  last  much  longer 
because  it  has  been  slow  in  doin'." 

"Oh,  really,  will  it?"  said  Julia,  rather  taken 
aback.  "Oh,  I'm  glad  of  that,  because,  of  course,  as 
it  takes  such  a  long  time  doing,  one  doesn't  want  to  be 
often  turned  out  of  one's  room  for  so  long.  Thank 
you  so  much.    Would  you  like  a  glass  of  beerl" 

"Well,  lady,  a  glass  of  beer  never  comes  amiss  to  a 
man  at  the  end  of  a  hard  day's  work,"  rejoined  the 
foreman.    ' '  ~Sle  and  my  mates  thank  you  very  much. ' ' 

So  Julia  called  to  one  of  the  servants  and  ordered 
"Beer  for  these  gentlemen"  with  a  lavish  air  which 
the  more  frugal  Regina  might  not  have  approved  had 
she  happened  to  be  at  home.  Regina  was,  however, 
at  that  moment  gracing  with  her  dignified  presence  a 
platform  devoted  at  that  hour  to  the  restriction  of  the 


86  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

sale  of  strong  drinks,  and  the  incident  never  came  to 
her  knowledge. 

''Now,  Maudie,"  said  Julia,  "have  you  any  sugges- 
tions to  make  V^ 

Maudie  stood  looking  round  and  round  the  room 
which  was  to  be  their  especial  domain. 

''It's  awfully  pretty,"  she  said.  "Well,  as  to  sug- 
gestions, I  should  suggest  that  we  get  the  floor  done 
before  we  do  anything  else." 

"Yes.  And  then  I  suggest  that  we  choose  the 
chintz, ' '  said  Julia. 

' '  I  like  cretonne  better  than  chintz, ' '  replied  Maudie. 

"No,  cretonne  is  like  flannelette  at  fourpence- 
ha 'penny  a  yard — looks  like  the  loveliest  flannel,  and 
you  make  up  your  blouse  and  think  you  have  got  a 
treasure  that 's  going  to  last  you  for  six  weeks  without 
washing.  You  find  out  your  mistake  in  about  six 
days,  and  when  you  send  it  to  the  wash,  it  comes  back 
as  rough  as  a  badger  and  can  never  be  worn  more 
than  once  afterwards.  No,  dear  girl,  let  us  have 
chintz. ' ' 

"I  suppose,"  said  Maudie,  "if  you  want  chintz 
you'll  have  chintz." 

"Well,  we'll  go  up  to  the  High  Street  to-morrow 
morning  and  we'll  look  at  both — " 

"Excuse  me  making  so  bold,"  said  a  voice  at  the 
door,  "but  if  I  might  be  allowed  to  speak  to  you 
ladies — " 

They  both  turned  with  a  start.  The  foreman, 
politely  pressing  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  lips, 
was  standing  in  the  hall.  "Well?"  they  said  in  the 
same  breath. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  87 

"If  I  might  make  so  bold,  ladies,  as  to  suggest,  our 
guv 'nor  is  a  one-er  on  chintzes." 

''Oh,  really?" 

''Loose  covers  is  his  special'ty — his  special'ty. " 
He  again  passed  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  lips. 
' '  Thank  you  very  much  for  the  drink,  ladies.  It  was 
very  welcome.    If  I  might  make  so  bold  as  to — " 

"You  had  better  have  another,"  said  Julia. 

"I'm  not  saying  no,  miss.  It's  very  polite  of  you, 
and  I  accepts  it  as  it's  offered.  If  I  might  make  so 
bold,  I  would  suggest  that  I  just  speak  to  the  guv 'nor 
as  I  go  past  the  head  office,  and  he  'd  send  his  book  of 
patterns  up  in  the  morning.  He  could  send  them  up 
and  then  you  could  look  at  them  in  the  room  itself. 
It's  always  more  satisfactory  than  seeing  them  at 
a  distance.  It  isn't  everyone,"  the  foreman  went 
on,  "that  can  hold  a  scheme  of  color  in  the  heye  and 
carry  it  to  a  shop  miles  away,  and  take  the  exact 
match  of  it. ' ' 

"No,"  said  Maudie,  "I  suppose  not." 

"Well,  I  can,"  said  Julia,  with  decision.  "If 
there's  one  thing  I  can  do,  it  is  to  carry  a  scheme  of 
color  in  my  eye;  but  at  the  same  time  you  might  as 
well  tell  Mr.  Broxby  to  send  in  his  book  of  chintz 
patterns,  and  we'll  have  a  look  at  them.  But  who 
shall  we  get  to  make  them?" 

"Makin'  loose  covers  is  one  of  Mr.  Broxby 's  spe- 
cial'ties, "  said  the  foreman.  He  turned  and  held 
out  his  glass  that  he  might  have  it  refilled.  "My 
respects  to  you,  ladies,"  he  said  politely,  raising  his 
glass  towards  the  two  girls,  "my  respects 
to  you.     It  isn't  often  that   a   man   in  my  position 


88  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

finishes  a  job  with  such  pleasure  as  it's  been  to  ns 
fellows  to  do  this  'ere  room  for  you  young  ladies,  and 
if  I  can  put  any  little  tip  in  your  way,  it's  a  great 
pleasure  to  me  to  do  it." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Julia.  "You  are  very  kind. 
You  have  done  the  room  beautifully,  we  are  most 
satisfied.  And  if  you'll  tell  Mr.  Broxby  to  send  us  his 
chintzes  to-morrow  morning,  we  can  look  at  them." 

Then  began  another  period  of  waiting.  ^Ir.  Broxby 
arrived  himself  with  the  books  of  patterns.  He 
viewed  the  great  roomy  old  couch  on  which  for  years 
the  girls  had  played,  and  which  they  had,  as  Julia 
frankly  said,  used  abominably,  and  he  made  one  or 
two  suggestions  for  adding  to  its  comfort  at  no  great 
outlay  of  money.  And  finally  they  chose  a  chintz  for 
the  curtains  of  the  three  windows,  and  for  covers  for 
the  couch  and  the  large  armchair.  The  cost  thereof 
was  a  question  into  which  ]\Ir.  Broxby  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  go. 

"I  couldn't  exactly  say,  Miss  Whittaker,  what  the 
price  will  be,  but  it  won't  be  very  much,"  he  re- 
marked. "You  see,  cretonne  is  cheaper  than  chintz, 
that  is  why  so  many  people  chooses  cretonne  in 
preference  to  the  other;  but  when  you  come  to  the 
question  of  wear — why,  chintz  has  it  all  its  own  way. ' ' 

"Just  what  I  said,"  said  Julia,  "just  what  I  said. 
Well,  now,  look  here,  Maudie,  we'll  have  this  chintz, 
and  as  to  the  cost — well,  we  must  leave  it  to  Mr. 
Broxby 's  honor  that  he  doesn't  ruin  us.  If  you  ruin 
us,"  she  said,  "you  won't  get  your  bill  paid  as  soon, 
or  nearly  as  soon,  as  if  you  keep  the  prices  down. 
Our  father  has  given  us  a  sum  of  money  to  do  this 


MRS.  AVHITTAKER  89 

room  lip  with.  He  pays  for  the  papering,  but  he 
gives  us  a  fixed  sum  of  money  for  everything  else,  and 
if  you  charge  us  too  much  you'll  have  to  leave  half 
your  bill  till  next  year." 

''And  who'll  pay  it  then?"  asked  ]\Iaudie. 

''Oh,  well,  you  and  I  will  have  to  pay  it." 

"I  see." 

Now  Maudie  was  a  careful  soul  who  detested  pro- 
crastination:  at  any  time  she  preferred  to  go  out  in 
a  pair  of  extremely  dirty  gloves  rather  than  procure 
others  by  forestalling  her  next  quarter's  money  (for 
I  must  tell  you  that  for  several  years  these  girls  had 
had  a  small  allowance  paid  quarterly  which  provided 
them  with  gloves  and  ties). 

Then  there  set  in  another  period  of  waiting.  The 
chintz,  like  the  wall-paper,  was  not  in  stock,  and  on 
learning  this  fact  the  two  girls  went  round  and 
explained  to  Mr.  Broxby  that  they  would  just  as  soon 
choose  another. 

"Now,  young  ladies,  if  you  would  allow  me  to 
advise  you,"  said  Mr.  Broxby — "it's  the  same  thing 
to  me,  of  course — but  if  you  would  allow  me  to  advise 
you,  I  should  say  wait  and  have  the  chintz  that  exactly 
suits  your  wall-paper.  There  isn't  another  chintz 
in  the  book  that  exactly  goes  with  the  wall  paper.  If 
you  chance  on  one  that  clashes  with  the  paper,  well, 
your  room  is  spoilt  at  once.  I'll  hurry  them  on  all  I 
know,  but  I  must  say  that  it  will  give  me  more  satis- 
faction to  make  things  up  with  a  legitimate  end  in 
view. ' ' 

"There's  something  in  that,"  said  Maudie.  "I 
should  wait." 


90  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

'*  Very  well,"  said  Julia,  ''but  if  I  have  to  wait 
another  five  weeks,  all  I  can  say  is,  Mr.  Broxby,  that 
I  shall  come  every  morning  and  I  shall  worry  you 
until  we  do  get  the  covers. ' ' 

''Young  ladies,  you  will  not  come  too  often  to 
please  me,"  said  Mr.  Broxby,  gallantly.  At  which 
the  two  girls  laughed,  and  literally  took  to  their  heels 
and  fled. 

I  won't  say  that  they  waited  quite  five  weeks  for 
the  chintz,  but  they'  did  have  to  wait ;  and  when  at 
length  Mr.  Broxby  announced  that  he  had  received 
the  chintz,  they  had  to  wait  yet  a  little  time  longer 
while  the  curtains  and  covers  were  put  together. 

"But  doesn't  it  look  sweet  now  it's  done?"  said 
Julia.  "Isn't  it  sweet?  Yes,  it's  true  they've  cost 
a  lot — you're  quite  right  there,  Maudie;  and  they'll 
make  a  big  hole  in  our  thirty  pounds.  Of  course,  we 
ought  to  have  an  Aubusson  carpet,  but  we  can't  pos- 
sibly afford  that." 

"No,"  said  Maudie,  shaking  her  head  resolutely, 
"that  is  certain,  as  certain  as  that  one  day  we  shall 
both  die.  The  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  go  for  one 
of  those  square  things  we  saw  at  Barker's  the  other 
day — 'cord  squares,'  I  think  they  called  them." 

"I  wanted  a  carpet  our  feet  would  sink  in,"  said 
Julia. 

"You  can't  have  it,  my  dear.  Besides,  it  wouldn't 
be  much  in  keeping  with  a  girls'  room.  Have  a 
pretty  dark  blue  cord  square.  We  shall  get  it  for 
about  three  pounds.  We  shall  have  endless  bother 
with  people  slipping  about  and  smashing  things  if  we 
try  and  make  these  boards  look  like  parquet." 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  91 

"You  don't  slip  on  parquet  as  you  do  on  boards," 
said  Julia.  ' '  You  see,  we  haven 't  very  much  left,  and 
we  must  have  two  big  basket  chairs,  a  couple  of  small 
chairs,  and  a  stool  or  two;  and  we  must  have  a 
writing-table.  And  then  we  haven't  got  any  sort  of 
an  overmantel,  no  sort  of  a  looking-glass,  and  no  pic- 
tures, so  say  nothing  of  a  stand  or  two  to  put  plants 
in.  I  don't  see  where  it  is  all  coming  from — still  less 
the  piano.  Oh,  I  haven't  given  up  all  idea  of  the 
piano.  That  we  must  squeeze  out  of  our  dress  al- 
lowance. ' ' 

"You  don't  think,"  said  Maudie,  "that  we  could 
put  the  piano  off  for  another  year?" 

"No,"  said  Julia,  decidedly,  "it's  no  good  spoiling 
the  ship  for  a  ha'porth  of  tar." 


92  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 


CHAP TEE   X 

A  WEIGHTY   BUSINESS 

I  have  always  had  a  tender  feeling  about  the  great  Idiot 
Asylum  which  teaches  its  children  by  means  of  keeping 
shop,  with  real  pennies  and  real  sweeties. 

Now  if  there  was  one  thing  on  which  Julia  Whit- 
taker  prided  herself,  it  was  that  she  could  carry  color 
in  her  eye.  A  great  many  people  have  the  same  belief, 
and  it  is  a  point  upon  which  a  very  large  number 
entirely  deceive  themselves. 

On  the  very  afternoon  of  the  day  that  they  had 
decided  on  the  chintz  for  the  curtains  and  covers, 
the  sisters  hied  themselves  to  that  part  of  London 
which  is  familiarly  known  as  "the  High  Street." 
Knowing  that  their  mother  would  be  away  from  the 
Park  during  all  the  hours  which  intervened  between 
breakfast  and  dinner,  so  the  girls  determined  that 
they  would  get  something  which  would  serve  as  lunch 
in  one  of  the  large  shops  in  Kensington  High  Street 
which  catered  for  that  particular  meal.  Thus  they 
had  several  hours  before  them  for  selection  and  con- 
sideration. 

"Maudie,"  said  Julia,  as  they  walked  into  the  car- 
pet room  at  John  Barker's,  "there's  one  thing  we've 
never  given  a  thought  to. " 


MES.    WHITTAKER  93 

'^ What's  that?"  asked  Maudie. 

*'The  blinds.     And,  mind  yon,  the  blinds  will  cost 
us  a  pretty  penny." 

''Won't  those  we  have  do?"  Mandie  suggested. 

"Oh  Maudie!" 

"No,  I  suppose  they  won't,"  Maudie  admitted. 

"Of  course,"  Julia  went  on,  "mother  was  right 
enough  when  she  had  those  green  blinds  to  match  the 
bedrooms  at  the  back  of  the  house— they  were  quite 
good  enough  for  a  playroom,  but  they  would  be  horrid 
for  us.  Well,  that  keeps  us  down  to  the  idea  of  a  cord 
for  the  carpet.  We  want  to  look  at  carpets,"  she  said 
to  a  gentlemanly  young  man  who  came  up  asking  her 
pleasure.  "No,  nothing  so  expensive  as  that,"  she 
continued,  casting  reflective  eyes  upon  a  very  beauti- 
ful carpet  square.  ''We  want  something  that  will 
be — I  think  you  call  them  a  cord— something  in  deep 
blue,  or  deep  crimson,  or  a  rich  green." 

"I'm  afraid,"  said  the  young  man,  shaking  his 
head  doubtfully,  'Hhat  we  haven't  anything  quite  in 
those  colors.  We  have  a  blue,  and  we  have  a  terra- 
cotta.   What  size,  madam?" 

Well,  I  needn't  go  through  the  process  of  buying  a 
cheap  carpet.  The  transaction  ended  by  the  two  girls 
purchasing  a  carpet  which,  as  Julia  remarked,  was 
really  almost  too  ugly  for  words.  It  was  not  an  ugly 
carpet  as  carpets  for  that  price  go — it  would  have 
been  admirable  in  a  bedroom,  but  for  a  sitting-room 
with  a  delicate  Louis  XV  paper,  with  exquisite 
chintzes  to  match,  it  was  certainly  not  a  little  out  of 
keeping. 

"After  all,  the  carpet  doesn't  matter,"  said  Julia, 


94  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

with  an  air  of  making  the  best  of  it,  **so  long  as  it's 
unobtrusive  and  neat." 

"I  believe  plain  felt  would  have  been  the  best/' 
said  Maudie,  eyeing  the  carpet  with  much  disfavor. 

''They  don't  wear,  do  they?"  said  Julia,  appealing 
to  the  young  man. 

''No,  a  felt  carpet  doesn't  wear,  madam.  It  sweeps 
up  into  a  good  deal  of  fluff,  and  it's  apt  to  induce 
moths  in  the  house,  and  we  really  don't  find  them  very 
satisfactory.  It  looks  very  nice  at  first,"  he  ended 
with  a  flourish,  as  if  their  brains  were  enough  to  fill 
up  the  rest  of  the  sentence. 

"Yes,  I  think  so,  too.  Well,  we'll  have  it,  Maudie, 
eh  ?  It  will  do  for  us  to  begin  with, ' '  she  added  in  a 
whisper.    "Now  tell  us,  where  are  the  blinds?" 

"I  can  show  you  the  blinds,  madam.  They  are  in 
the  other  end  of  the  department. ' ' 

I  must  confess  that  the  blinds  were  another  blow. 
Mind  you  there  were  five  windows  to  provide  for — 
two  single  windows  and  a  large  bay  of  three  lights. 

"These  blinds  are  ruinous,"  remarked  Maudie,  as 
the  young  man  drew  down  one  rich  linen  and  lace 
specimen  after  another. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Julia,  "we  must  have  some- 
thing more  simple  than  that." 

"A  good  blind,  madam,  is  worth  its  money. 
Blinds  don't  wear  out  like  carpets,"  said  the  young 
gentleman.  "I  should  personally  recommend  this 
one.  Yes,  it  is  rather  dear  to  begin  with,  but  it  gives 
the  window  an  air,  and  it  will  clean  again  and  again 
and  again.  Perhaps  your  house  is  in  a  very  smoky 
district. ' ' 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  95 

''No,  it  isn't.    We  live  in  Northampton  Park." 
**Ah,  then   I   should  recommend  these — I   should 
really.     They  will  be  more  satisfaction  to  you  after- 
wards.   A  carpet  is  a  very  different  thing.    You  are 
walking  on  a  carpet  every  day,  and  it's  hidden  by 
other  things,  but  blinds,  unless  you  are  having  cur- 
tains quite  stretched  across  the  window,  blinds  are 
always  in  view.    Really,  I  should  recommend  these." 
And  eventually  they  did  buy  them ;   and  then  they 
bade  their  tempter  adieu  and  went  across  the  road  to 
look  into  furniture.     Well,  the  furnishing  of  a  room 
is  always  more  or  less  a  matter  of  taste,  a  matter  of 
individual  taste,  I  may  say,  and  the  two  girls  that 
afternoon  displayed  their  individual  taste  in  a  most 
extraordinary  manner.    They  bought  the  most  curious 
and  unnecessary  articles.    First  of  all  they  fell  in  love 
with  a  most  elaborate  over-mantel,  which  was  ready 
to  be  enameled  in  any  color  that  the  purchaser  de- 
sired, or  which  might  be  stained  to  simulate  oak.    For 
its  centre  it  had  a  square  of  looking-glass  with  bev- 
eled edges,   and  it  had  many  little  cupboards  and 
shelves  and  pillars.    It  was  a  most  elaborate  creation. 
Then  Maudie  fell  in  love  with  a  couple  of  Japanese 
vases.     They  were  exceedingly  meretricious  in  their 
art;    they  were  the  most  modern  specimens  of  that 
style  of  Japanese  handicraft  which  is  produced  ex- 
clusively for  the  English  market.     The  English  have 
much  to  answer  for,  and  the  prostitution  of  Japanese 
art,  like  the  prostitution  of  art  in  India,  is  among 
the  sins  for  which  one  day  England  will  surely  be 
called  upon  to  justify  herself.     The  price  of  these 
vases  was  twelve-and-nine-pence.    You  know  perhaps 


96  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

what  it  is  to  buy  your  first  piece  of  porcelain,  either 
new  or  old.  It's  like  that  first  downward  step  out  of 
the  rigid  paths  of  honesty  which  leads  eventually  to 
the  gallows.  The  Whittaker  girls  took  the  step  at  a 
jump. 

The  consequences  were  disastrous.  Oh,  the  rub- 
bish they  bought  that  day,  the  absurd  little  tables 
that  turned  over  almost  with  being  looked  at,  the 
ridiculous  plant  stands,  the  preposterous  little  cup- 
boards for  hanging  on  the  wall.  Then  they  must 
needs  have  -^  horrible  curtain  of  reeds  and  beads  and 
string,  and  a  three-fold  screen,  which  was  a  marvel  of 
cheapness  because  it  was  the  last  one  left  in  stock. 
Then  their  taste  went  to  Venetian  glass — such  Vene- 
tian glass! — some  modern  faience  from  Rouen,  and 
some  Wedgewood  which  surely  would  cause  the  orig- 
inator of  that  great  art  to  turn  in  his  grave  could  he" 
have  beheld  it.  Fans  they  bought  also,  and  a  gypsy 
pot  for  a  coal  pan,  and  then  they  remembered  that 
they  must  have  a  fender,  and  they  did  themselves 
rather  'nicely  in  a  black  curb  with  a  brass  railing. 
Then  they  reminded  each  other  that  they  must  have  a 
set  of  fireirons,  and  then  they  went  off  to  see  the 
basket  chairs. 

"They're  very  ugly,"  said  Maudie. 

"And  they're  not  very  comfortable,"  rejoined 
Julia.  "But  there,  we  have  spent  such  a  lot  of  money 
already  that  we  certainly  must  get  our  chairs  before 
we  think  of  anything  else. ' ' 

"And  we  have  no  small  chairs." 

"No,  we  haven't.     I  don't  know  where  we  shall 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  97 

get  small  chairs — we  can't  possibly  afford  expensive 


ones. ' ' 


"If  I  were  you,  ladies,  I  should  go  and  look  in  the 
second-hand  furniture  department,"  suggested  the 
young  lady  who  was  convoying  them  round  the  basket 
d^artment. 

"Yes,  that's  a  good  idea.  We  might  pick  up  some 
odd  chairs  there.  That's  a  good  idea,"  said  Julia. 
"Well,  then,  Maudie,  if  we  have  those  two  big  lounge 
chairs  and  those  two  little  occasional  chairs,  that 
ought  to  do  us  very  well." 

"Will  you  have  them  cushioned,  madam?" 

"Cushioned?  Of  course  we  ought  to  have  them 
cushioned.    Is  there  much  difference  in  the  price  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  no,  madam,  not  very  much.  Cushions  in  a 
pretty  cretonne  are  quite  inexpensive." 

So  eventually,  without  any  reference  either  to  the 
carpet  or  the  wall-paper,  or  the  chintz  curtains  and 
covers,  they  chose  a  pretty  cretonne  of  a  nice  salmon- 
pink  shade.  And  then  they  went  to  the  second-hand 
department  and  looked  out  two  or  three  occasional 
chairs,  which  were  in  reality  the  most  sensible  pur- 
chases that  they  made. 

I  wish  I  could  adequately  paint  the  scene  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  when  the  van  conveying  all  the  pur- 
chases, with  the  exception  of  the  blinds  and  the  chairs, 
which  had  still  to  be  cushioned,  drew  up  at  the  door  of 
Ye  Dene.  First  of  all  came  the  carpet,  which  was 
promptly  laid  down  and  tacked  into  position. 

"It  clashes  with  everything,''  said  Maudie,  quite 
tragically. 

"I  don't  think  it  does.    It  goes  quite  well  with  that 
7 


98  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

blue  in  the  wall-paper.  I  carried  the  color  in  my 
eye,"  said  Julia.  "And,  after  all,  it  won't  show 
much.    There's  a  lot  to  go  on  it." 

And  true  enough,  compared  with  the  other  things, 
the  carpet  was  absolutely  inoffensive. 

"You  would  like  the  over-mantel  put  up,  lady?" 
said  the  workman  w*ho  laid  the  carpet. 

"Yes,  I  think  so." 

"You  wouldn't  like  to  have  it  enameled  first?" 

"No,  I  think  we'll  keep  it  as  it  is,"  Julia  replied. 
"Don't  you  think  so,  Maudie?" 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Maudie,  in  a  voice  of  complete 
despair,  ' '  keep  it  as  it  is. ' ' 

Honestly,  I  do  not  know  how  to  describe  this  room, 
the  room  that  had  started  so  well.  With  a  few  arti- 
cles of  real  Louis  Quinze  furniture  to  give  it  a  tone, 
and  the  rest  decently  shrouded  in  the  exquisite  chintz 
which  the  girls  had  chosen,  the  room  might  have  been 
one  whose  equal  was  not  'to  be  found  in  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  Park.  As  it  was,  it  ended  by  hav- 
ing the  air  of  a  bazaar  stall,  put  together  by  somebody 
who  did  not  properly  understand  the  business. 

"There,  that  looks  awfully  nice  and  cosy  behind 
the  couch, ' '  said  Julia,  eyeing  with  much  satisfaction 
the  three-fold  screen,  which  was  of  a  vivid  scarlet 
embroidered  in  garish  colors.  "At  least  it  will 
do  when  the  couch  gets  its  pretty  new  frock  on. ' ' 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  this?"  asked 
Maudie,  holding  up  a  mass  of  bright-colored  beads 
and  string  depending  from  a  lath. 

"I  thought  we  would  hang  it  over  that  window." 

"But  you  want  them  over  all  the  windows. 


>> 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  99 

"Well,  do  you  know  I  really  don't  know  what  we 
did  have  that  for.  Look  here,  we  've  gone  on  the  con- 
ventional line  in  this  room,  let's  start  and  have  some- 
thing that's  not  at  all  conventional.  "We'll  hang  it 
on  one  side  of  the  bay  window — yes,  just  up  there." 

"Well,  we  can't  fix  it  up  ourselves.  We'll  have  to 
get  one  of  Broxby's  men  to  come  in." 

*  *  It  will  look  awfully  well, ' '  said  Julia,  ' '  and  it  will 
screen  off  that  part  of  the  room.  Maudie,"  she  went 
on,  breaking  off  sharp  as  a  new  idea  struck  her, 
"what  on  earth  were  we  thinking  of?  We  ought  to 
have  had  a  window  seat." 

"That  would  have  been  a  good  idea — I  wonder  we 
never  thought  of  it,"  Maudie  cried. 

"Well,  we  can't  now,"  said  Julia  in  a  very  matter- 
of-fact  tone,  "because  we  haven't  any  money  left. 
As  it  is,  I  don't  believe  thirty  pounds  will  cover  all 
we  spent  yesterday." 

*  *  Neither  do  I,  for  when  the  blinds  come  you  '11  find 
they  will  be  ever  so  much  dearer  than  we  bargained 
for.  Shall  we  stand  this  tall  bamboo  thing  for  plants 
here?" 

"Yes — just  in  front  of  where  the  reed  and  bead 
curtain  is  to  go.  Well,  then,  since  we  haven't  a 
window  seat,"  Julia  went  on,  "we  must  put  one  of 
the  big  wicker  chairs  there. ' ' 

"But  who's  going  to  sit  there  alone?" 

"Oh,  we  can  put  a  small  occasional  chair  beside  it. 
The  man  can  sit  on  that. ' ' 

"And  a  table?" 

"Yes — oh  yes,  I  should  put  a  table  for  their  tea- 
cups.    Well,  then,  when  the  piano  comes — and  by- 


IGO  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

the-bye  don't  forget  we  have  to  go  up  to-day  and 
choose  it — when  the  piano  comes,  what  do  you  say  to 
standing  it  out  here  ? ' ' 

' '  It  would  not  look  bad. ' ' 

''And  this  wicker  chair  like  that — a  little  table 
there—" 

' '  Oh,  it  will  be  exquisite !  There  won 't  be  another 
room  in  the  Park  like  it. ' ' 

"And  there  are  all  these  things,  Julia,"  said 
Maudie,  looking  down  upon  a  great  dust-sheet  on 
which  were  spread  the  rest  of  their  many  purchases. 
"I  don't  know  where  we  shall  put  everything.  All 
these  little  knick-knacks  and  odds  and  ends,  they  are 
awfully  quaint  and  funny  and  pretty,  but  I'm  sure  I 
don't  know  what  we  are  to  do  with  them.  Here,  you 
have  got  the  eye;  you  must  say  just  w^here  they  are 
to  go." 

And  Julia,  having  the  eye,  did  say  where  they  were 
to  go ;  in  fact,  with  her  own  energetic  hands  she 
spread  them  about  the  room — crawling  beetles,  grin- 
ning devils,  spotted  cats  with  exaggerated  green  eyes, 
odds  and  ends  of  pottery,  glass  and  porcelain. 

"Do  you  think  we  need  have  that  over-mantel 
enameled?"  she  asked  Maudie  at  last. 

"No,  I  should  have  it  stained  black — ebonized, 
that's  the  word,"  said  Maudie,  looking  round.  "As 
it  is,  the  room  is  too  new,  too  ornate,  too  dazzlingly 
modern.  There  isn't  a  touch  of  shadow  in  it  any- 
where— it 's  like  a  face  without  any  eyelashes. ' ' 


MRS.  WmTTAKER,v>,.,  <,  ..  ■  101 


CHAPTER   XI 

AMBITIONS 

Many  people  look  upon  mental  blindness  as  they  do  upon 
physical  blindness — as  a  terrible  affliction.  Yet,  when  the 
mentally  blind  suddenly  see,  their  condition  is  not  usually 
improved  thereby. 

If  the  Whittaker  girls  had  been  unpopular  as 
children,  they  certainly  made  up  for  it,  so  far  as 
Northampton  Park  was  concerned,  when  they  became 
young  women.  The  innovation  of  having  an  At 
Home  day  of  their  own,  at  which  their  mother  made 
a  point  of  not  appearing,  was  so  daring  that  every 
girl  in  the  Park  made  it  her  duty  to  be  present 
thereat,  and  when  it  was  braited  abroad  that  it  was 
really  a  girl's  At  Home,  with  no  overshadowing 
mothers  and  such  like  sober  persons,  that  the  girls  had 
their  own  room  and  their  own  tea-things,  and  excel- 
lent provision  in  the  way  of  cakes,  and  that  cigarettes 
were  allowed  after  six  o'clock,  then  not  only  the  girls, 
but  also  their  brothers,  soon  came  flocking  into  Ye 
Dene  in  considerable  numbers.  The  whole  winter  did 
this  state  of  things  continue,  until  the  At  Home  days 
at  Ye  Dene  were  no  longer  a  nine  days'  wonder  but 
an  established  fact. 

Then  Maudie  and  Julia  began  to  meet  with  other 


1Q2<  ;  ,;  ...  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

girls  further  afield  than  their  own  immediate  vicinity, 
girls  who  were  connections  or  friends  of  the  girls  who 
lived  in  the  Park,  and  invitations  began  to  shower  in 
upon  Regina's  daughters.  They  were  perfectly  inde- 
pendent— Regina  wished  them  to  be  so,  and  prided 
herself  on  the  fact  that  they  were  so — and  as  their 
comings  and  goings  did  not  interfere  with  the  com- 
fort of  their  father,  Alfred  Whittaker  saw  nothing  to 
which  ho  could  frame  any  reasonable  objection  in  his 
daughters'  mode  of  life. 

It  happened  one  afternoon  that  the  two  girls  were 
having  tea  and  muffins  in  their  own  sitting-room.  It 
was  just  before  Easter,  that  week  when  the  tide  of 
suburban  entertaining  lulls  a  little,  and  the  two  were 
sitting  by  a  blazing  fire  in  big  wicker  chairs  drawn 
close  up  to  the  fender,  the  low  Moorish  tea-table  con- 
veniently placed  between  them. 

"Maudie,"  said  Julia,  suddenly,  ''I  think  we  shall 
have  to  pull  up." 

''Pull  up!  why?"  Maudie's  tone  was  blank,  for 
she  herself  had  a  particular  reason  for  not  wanting 
to  pull  up  in  any  shape  or  form  just  then. 

''We're  getting  too  cheap,"  said  Julia. 

' '  Cheap  !  and  we  've  spent  nearly  all  our  dress  allow- 
ance ! ' '  Maudie  exclaimed. 

"I  don't  mean  cheap  in  that  way.  No,  we're  get- 
ting cheap  socially.  Anybody  thinks  they  can  come 
to  our  days  and  bring  anyone  tbey  like,  and  we  do 
half  the  entertaining  of  the  Park  for  people  who  do 
nothing  for  us." 

"It  makes  us  popular,"  said  Maudie,  helping  her- 
self to  another  piece  of  muffin. 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  103 

**Yes,  yes,  but  is  such  popularity  worth  it?" 

''I  don't  know." 

''Are  we  going  on  right  through  the  season?" 

''"Well,  you  know,  Ju.  the  season  doesn't  make 
much  difference  to  us. ' ' 

''It's  going  to,"  said  Julia. 

"Is  it  going  to  this  season?"  Maudie  demanded. 
' '  That 's  the  question — is  it  going  to  this  season  ? ' ' 

"I  don't  see  why  not.  We've  got  any  amount  of 
invitations  for  next  month,  and  not  more  than  a  third 
of  them  are  in  the  Park.  A  third?  A  quarter,  I 
should  say.    Now  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  propose  doing. ' ' 

"Well?" 

"I  propose,  as  it  is  the  regulation  thing  to  do,  to 
chuck  our  'day'  until  next  autumn." 

"Julia!"  Maudie  was  so  taken  back  that  she 
was  surprised  into  giving  her  sister  her  full  name, 
the  diminutive  thereof  not  seeming  to  express  suffi- 
ciently what  was  in  her  mind." 

"You  may  say  'Julia,'  but  my  head  is  screwed  on 
the  right  way.  I  suppose  I  shall  never  get  mother 
and  the  dad  to  move  away  from  Ye  Dene." 

"From  the  Park?" 

"Yes.  We  have  got  too  much  of  the  Park  about 
us.  It's  all  Park.  Dad  is  very  well  off,  mother  has 
money  of  her  own — why  shouldn't  we  go  and  live  in 
Kensington?  We  could  shunt  all  these  Park  people, 
excepting  just  the  best — those  we  have  been  the  most 
intimate  with — and  get  into  a  real  good  set.  AVhat's 
the  use  of  having  a  well-off  father  and  a  very 
distinguished  mother  if  we  hide  our  light  under  a 
bushel  in  such  a  place  as  this?" 


104  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

''The  people  that  live  here  are  just  as  good  as  we 


are." 


''Well,  perhaps  they  are,  and  perhaps  they're  not, 
Maudie,"  Julia  retorted  sharply.  "If  we  satisfy 
them,  I'm  quite  sure  they  don't  satisfy  me.  I  don't 
believe  myself  in  sitting  on  the  bottom  rung  of  the 
ladder  when  you  can  easily  and  comfortably  climb  up 
to  the  top." 

"But  shall  we  ever  get  to  the  topi" 

"No,  never;  that  means  strawberry  leaves.  But 
there  are  a  dozen  reasons  for  getting  out  of  Ye  Dene. 
In  the  first  place,  the  dad  has  to  get  up  at  an  ungodly 
hour  in  the  morning  so  as  to  get  to  his  office  at  the 
usual  time.  Mother  spends  half  her  life  in  the  train, 
and  you  know  neither  of  them  are  as  young  as  they 
were.  I  went  up  to  town  with  mother  yesterday, 
and  I  'm  sure  it  was  pitiful  to  see  her  dragging  herself 
up  those  steep  station  stairs.  She  ought  to  be  able  to 
get  into  a  cab  and  go  to  her  meetings,  a  woman  of 
her  substance." 

"Perhaps.  But  we  shall  never  get  a  house  like 
this — never,  never,  Ju.  We  shall  have  to  do  without 
our  own  sitting-room,  or  else  have  a  little  box  some- 
where at  the  back  of  the  house,  looking  into  a  yard. 
We  shall  have  to  have  clean  curtains  every  fortnight 
like  the  Brookeses.  We  shall  have  to  sleep  up  on 
the  third  or  fourth  story— and  it  will  all  be  horrid, 
horrid,  horrid!" 

"Not  at  all.  My  dear,  there  are  plenty  of  houses 
quite  as  good  as  this  in  Kensington." 

"They'll  be  three  times  the  rent." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  not  the  least  bit  of  it.     Look 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  105 

at  that  house  where  the  Ponsonby-Piggots  live; 
garden — charming  garden,  tea-house  at  the  end, 
greenhouse,  shrubs,  lawn,  three  lovely  sitting-rooms 
on  the  entrance  floor,  and  only  two  stories  above. 
We  don't  want  a  castle  with  eight  or  nine  bedrooms 
— what  should  we  do  with  themi  Why,  the 
Ponsonhy-Piggots  keep  fowls!" 

*'0h,  well,  I  suppose  you'll  have  your  own  way. 
You  had  better  talk  to  mother  about  it." 

''I've  learned  a  lot  from  the  Ponsonby-Piggots," 
Julia  went  on.  "They  don't  just  trust  to  tea  and 
cakes  and  cigarettes,  and  a  song  or  two,  to  make 
them  somebody.  Each  of  those  three  plain  girls — 
and  that's  rather  paying  them  a  compliment — has 
got  some  special  line  of  her  own.  Gwenny  is  en- 
gaged to  the  ugliest  man  in  London,  and  she  makes 
a  parade  of  having  his  presentment  everywhere — 
statuettes,  photographs,  pastels,  miniatures,  every- 
thing you  can  think  of — to  bring  the  man  into 
prominence.  And  he  hasn't  got  twopence;  and 
though  he's  a  gentleman,  they  probably  won't  be  able 
to  marry  for  the  next  ten  years.  Theo  collects 
Napoleon  relics.  Didn't  you  notice  that  the  end  of 
their  sitting-room  is  devoted  to  Napoleon  T' 

"Yes,  I  did,  but  I  didn't  know  why,"  said  Maudie 
in  rather  a  wondering  tone. 

"Well,  that's  why.  And  Stella,  the  little  one  with 
the  curley  red  hair,  she  collects  half-a-dozen  things — 
postcards,  autographs,  souvenir  teaspoons,  and  old 
lustre  ware.  These  girls  only  have  an  allowance  of 
forty  pounds  a  year  for  their  dresses — each,  I  mean. 


106  THE   LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

she  added  hurriedly.  '^And  if  they  want  more  they 
make  it." 

''But  how?" 

*'0h,  in  various  ways.  Gwenny,  I  believe,  is 
secretary  to  a  big  doctor  up  in  town.  She  only  has 
to  attend  from  ten  till  five,  and  she  gets  a  rousing 
good  salary,  and  she's  putting  it  all  away  towards 
house  furnishing.  Then  Theo,  she  does  a  bit  of 
journalism,  and  Stella,  well,  she's  the  most  original  of 
all.    She 's  a  regular  little  Jew. ' ' 

''How  do  you  mean — regular  little  Jew?" 

"Oh,  she's  always  chopping  and  changing  among 
her  collections.  She  made  a  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds  last  year  in  selling  things  at  a  thoroughly 
good  profit  that  she  had  picked  up  for  nothing.  If  her 
mother  would  let  her,  she'd  go  into  a  flat  with  Theo 
and  open  a  regular  business.  But  Mrs.  Ponsonby- 
Piggot  says  that  the  girls  have  plenty  of  money  for 
their  needs,  and  always  will  have. '  * 

"Well,  if  so,  why  should  they?  You  wouldn't 
like  to  open  a  shop?" 

"I'd  do  anything  rather  than  stick  in  the  mud," 
said  Julia,  "anything  in  the  wide  world." 

"Stick  in  the  mud!"  echoed  Maudie.  "And  this 
is  all  that  has  come  of  mother 's  higher  education ! ' ' 

"Well,  mother  higher-educated  herself.  She  made 
a  huge  mistake,  and  nobody  knows  it  better  than 
mother.  She  is  up  in  all  sorts  of  learned  and  abstruse 
subjects  that  she  has  never  been  able  to  turn  to  ac- 
count in  any  shape  or  form,  and  the  ordinary  things 
that  women  ought  to  know  she  is  perfectly  ignorant 
of.    Fancy  setting  mother  to  make  a  pie ! ' ' 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  107 

"Fancy    setting    you    to    make    a    pie,"    retorted 

Maudie. 

"Oh,  well,  I've  been  thinking  it  wouldn't  be  half 
a  bad  idea  if  we  were  to  enter  at  the  Park  Polytechnic 
and  take  a  course  of  dressmaking,  another  of  milli- 
nery, another  of  cooking,  and,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
we  might  take  a  fourth  at  housekeeping." 

' '  How  should  we  get  it  all  in  T ' 

"Oh,  well,  that's  easy  enough.  You  pay  two 
guineas  a  year,  and  you  can  join  any  class  you  like. 
The  classes  are  going  on  all  day  long,  so  Rita  Macken- 
zie tells  me,  and  you  pay  sixpence  each  as  a  sort  of 
entrance  fee." 

"Then  we  couldn't  do  that  if  we  left  Ye  Dene." 

"Ah,  but  we  sha'n't  leave  Ye  Dene  to-day,  nor  to- 
morrow— I  never  thought  of  that  for  a  moment. 
But  if  we  once  graft  into  the  dad's  head  that  it  is 
possible  we  may  one  day  want  to  leave  Ye  Dene,  hell 
put  himself  in  the  right  channel  for  getting  good 
offers  for  it.  Don't  make  any  mistake  about  the 
value  of  Ye  Dene.  It's  freehold,  it  is  in  the  main  road, 
and  it  is  in  the  best  position  in  the  main  road.  It's  in 
perfect  repair  inside  and  out.  I  don't  believe,  if  the 
dad  was  to  put  it  in  the  hands  of  two  or  three  good 
agents,  that  we  should  be  here  two  months. ' ' 

"^hat  is  Rita  Mackenzie  going  in  for?" 

' '  House  decoration.  My  dear,  I  went  in  to  see  her 
yesterday— I  forgot  to  tell  you ;  it  was  when  you  were 
over  at  the  :\Iarksbys'.  You  know  there's  a  studio  to 
their  house?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Well,  her  father  has  made  it  over  to  her.     She 


108  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

took  a  course  of  lessons,  and  she's  decorated  it  herself. 
It's  a  dream!"  said  Julia.  "AVhen  I  look  round  this 
room  and  think  of  Rita's,  it  makes  me  feel  sick." 

"What's  the  matter  with  this  room?" 

''Oh,  what's  the  matter!  Just  this,  Maudie,  that 
since  we  evolved  this  room  out  of  our  own  ignorant, 
vulgar  minds,  I  've  been  getting  educated. 

"^ly  dear,  I  thought  we  had  finished  our  education 
long  ago,"  said  Maudie,  somewhat  taken  aback. 

"That's  where  your  limitations  come  in,  Maudie. 
If  ever  you  get  married,  you'll  find  that  you  have 
everyt^hing  to  learn  that  will  make  life  happy  and 
comfortable  to  you,  unless  you  enter  yourself  at  the 
Polytechnic  beforehand. ' ' 

"I  might  do  worse,"  said  Maudie,  looking  round. 
She  honestly  couldn't  see,  poor,  prosaic  girl  that  she 
was,  that  anything  was  amiss  with  their  own  especial 
sanctum.  It  was  bright,  cheerful,  dainty,  and  scru- 
pulously clean.  There  were  evidences  on  all  sides  that 
it  was  a  room  in  which  people  lived  a  great  share  of 
their  lives.  A  great  Persian  cat  lay  on  a  blue  velvet 
cushion  on  one  side  of  the  hearth,  and  a  very  present- 
able black  spaniel  was  curled  up  in  a  padded  basket 
on  the  other.  "I'm  sure,"  she  said,  looking  into  the 
blazing  depths  of  the  fire,  and  then  helping  herself  to 
another  piece  of  muffin,  "I'm  sure  there's  not  a  pret- 
tier room  in  the  Park  than  ours." 

"Oh,  my  dear,  don't  talk  nonsense!  It's  horrid. 
We've  got  a  Louis  Quinze  paper,  Louis  Quinze  chintz, 
and  make-believe  Japanese  bead  and  reed  curtains. 
We've  got  cheap  bazaar  rubbish  all  over  the  place, 
and  not  one  scrap  of  furniture  worth  calling  furni- 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  109 

ture  in  it.  The  carpet  gets  up  and  hits  the  walls,  and 
the  walls  in  their  turn  slap  the  screen,  and  the  screen 
clashes  with  the  chintz,  and  you  and  I  clash  with 
everything  else.     Oh,  it's  dreadful,  it's  horrible!" 

''We've  spent  most  of  our  dress  allowance  on  it," 
wailed  Maudie. 

''That's  the  piano.  You  know,  Maudie,  you  would 
have  a  good  one.  And  by-the-bye,"  she  added,  letting 
her  remark  fly  into  the  air  like  a  bombshell,  and  by- 
the-bye,  if  either  of  us  gets  married  before  the  piano 
is  paid  for,  will  the  other  poor  wretch  have  to  finish 
off  the  payments  by  herself?" 

"Well,  even  if  she  does,"  said  Maudie,  'Hhe  one 
that  has  to  finish  off  the  payments  will  have  the 
piano." 


110  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 


CHAPTER   XII 


TWOPENNY    DINNERS 


Possession  to  some  natures  seems  always  to  demand  value  in 
what  is  possessed;  to  others  it  has  exactly  the  opposite 
eflfeet. 

Julia  duly  implanted  in  her  parents'  minds  the 
preliminary  idea  that  a  change  from  Ye  Dene  might 
be  desirable.  But  the  Whittakers  did  not  leave  the 
Park  just  then,  for  it  was  only  a  few  days  after  the 
conversation  between  the  two  girls  on  the  subject  of 
removal,  that  quiet,  unoriginal  Maudie  cast  a  verit- 
able bombshell  into  the  family  circle.  For  Maudie  got 
engaged  to  be  married. 

I  have  spoken  earlier  in  this  story  of  a  house  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  Ye  Dene  which  was  called 
Ingleside,  and  I  have  just  mentioned  a  family  of  the 
name  of  Marksby.  The  Marksbys  lived  at  Ingleside, 
and  Ingleside  was  almost  exactly  opposite  to  Ye 
Dene;  the  Marksbys,  indeed,  were  next-door  neigh- 
bors of  the  M'Quades.  They  had  not  very  long  been 
in  possession  of  that  desirable  residence,  and,  mind 
you,  Ingleside  was  a  most  desirable  residence,  one  of 
the  best  to  be  found  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  111 

Park.  The  family  consisted  of  the  father  and  mother, 
two  daughters  and  a  son.  Mr.  :\Iarksby,  as  far  as  the 
Park  was  concerned,  was  that  mysterious  ''something 
in  the  city"  which  covers  such  a  multitude  of  sins, 
or  if  not  sins,  at  least  of  blemishes,  social  and  other- 
wise. They  did  themselves  and  their  neighbors  ex- 
tremely well,  kept  good-class  servants,  had  the  smart- 
est window  curtains  and  flower-boxes  in  the  Park, 
went  to  church  regularly,  gave  largely  in  charity  and 
entertained  freely.  What  wonder  that,  in  their  case, 
people  did  not  too  closely  inquire  into  the  exact  defi- 
nition of  "something  in  the  city." 

From  the  very  first  it  had  been  :\Iaudie  rather  than 
Julia  who  had  caught  on  with  the  Marksbys.  The 
^^larksby  girls  were  quiet  and  singularly  unassuming, 
and  as  Maudie  AYhittaker  grew  older  she  was  attract- 
ed, perhaps  because  of  Julia's  excessive  energy,  by 
quietness  rather  than  the  reverse,  and  was  indeed  her- 
self a  girl  of  singularly  few  words.  But  if  the  :\Iarksby 
girls  were  quiet,  then  young  Harry  Marksby  did  not 
share  their  nature.  He  was  himself  the  gayest  of  the 
gay,  one  who,  a  century  ago,  would  have  been  called 
an  "agreeable  rattle;"  indeed  he  was  a  young  man 
who  prided  himself  on  stirring  things  up.  He  by  no 
means  approved  of  the  fact  that  -his  father  and  mother 
had  turned  their  backs  upon  convenient  Bayswater 
in  favor  of  the  more  distant  Park.  He  was  a  young 
man  who  worked  hard  when  he  worked,  and  who 
abandoned  himself  to  amusement  when  he  was  not 
working.  But  he  was  a  sensible  young  man  and  did 
not  see  the  force  of  burning  the  candle  at  both  ends, 
so  that  he  stayed  a  great  deal  more  at  home  in  the 


112  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

evenings  than  many  a  young  man  of  his  age  and  gen- 
eral proclivities  would  have  done ;  and  thus  it  was  that 
he  came  somehow  to  fall  in  love  with  Regina  Whit- 
taker's  eldest  girl.  And,  as  I  said,  the  news  fell  upon 
the  Whittaker  family  like  a  bombshell. 

Not  that  they  were  displeased!  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Whittaker  had  been  too  happy  in  their  own  married 
life  to  grudge  either  of  their  girls  entering  upon  the 
same  joys.  But  they  had  not  seen  it  coming.  Parents 
are  often  like  that,  and  so  the  news  came  upon  them 
with  startling  suddenness. 

''I  am  not  surprised,  though,"  said  Regina  to  her 
husband  and  Julia  when  the  great  news  had  been 
broached  and  Harry  Marksby  had  gone  to  seek  his 
lady-love  in  the  seclusion  of  the  girl's  own  sitting- 
room,  "I  am  not  surprised.     She  is  very  beautiful." 

' '  Oh,  mother,  how  can  you  stuff  her  up  like  that  ? ' ' 
cried  Julia.  "Nobody  thinks  Maudie  very  beautiful 
but  yourself — not  even  Harry.  You  shouldn't  do  it, 
dear.  It  gives  us  such  a  wrong  idea  of  ourselves,  or 
it  might  do  if  we  hadn't  got  the  sense  to  see  what  we 
see  in  our  looking-glasses. ' ' 

''Your  modesty,"  said  Regina,  "is  most  becoming. 
I  honor  and  admire  you  for  it — ' ' 

"I'm  off  to  my  house-keeping  class,"  said  Julia, 
whisking  herself  out  of  the  room. 

"That  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  about  our 
girls,"  said  Regina  to  Alfred,  when  they  found  them- 
selves alone,  "that  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  about 
our  girls — their  utter  absence  of  self-consciousness. 
Beauty  has  never  been  a  bane  to  them,  because  they 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  113 

have  never  had  a  vain  thought  between  them.  It  is 
a  beautiful  and  wonderful  thing." 

''They're  good-looking  enough,"  said  Alfred,  ''but 
they'll  never,  either  of  them,  be  a  patch  upon  you, 
dearest. ' ' 

' '  Upon  me  f ' '  She  blushed  rosy  red  in  spite  of  her 
fifty  and  odd  years.  "Why,  Alfie,  looks  were  never 
my  strong  point.    They  get  their  looks  from  you. ' ' 

Nobody  but  yourself  ever  thought  so,  Queenie," 
said  Alfred  AVhittaker,  with  an  indulgent  glance  at 
his  wife ;  ' '  and  everybody  may  not  think  of  our  girls 
just  as  you  do. " 

' '  And  as  you  do,  Alfie  ? ' ' 

"And  as  I  do.  All  the  same,  I  don't  know  that  I 
should  call  them  beautiful  myself.  They're  good- 
looking,  wholesome,  straight,  clean,  desirable  girls,  as 
good  as  gold  and  as  merry  as  grigs.  By  the  way," 
he  added,  ' '  the  Marksbys  must  be  very  well  off. ' ' 

' '  Indeed !    AYhat  makes  you  think  so ! " 

' '  From  what  he  told  me  of  his  circumstances. ' ' 

' '  But  what  are  the  Marksbys  ? ' '  asked  Regina. 

"He's  in  his  father's  business." 

"But  what  is  his  father's  business?" 

Alfred  Whittaker  stretched  out  his  hand  and  took 
hold  of  his  wife's.  "Queenie,"  he  said,  "we  have 
never  been  very  proud  people,  have  we  ? " 

"I  hope  we  have  always  had  proper  pride,  and  no 
more,"  said  Regina. 

"He  is  a  nice  young  chap,"  Alfred  went  on, 
as  if  he  were  following  out  a  train  of  thought;  "and 
IMaudie  seems  to  be  very  much  taken  with  him — " 

8 


114  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES   OF 


''Alfie/'  said  Regina  in  a  tone  of  apprehension, 
''you  are  trying  to  break  something  to  me." 

''Well,  in  one  sense,  I  am,"  he  said,  smiling;  "and 
on  the  other  hand  I  am  not.  Myself  I  believe  in 
honest  character  and  good  solid  comfort  before  all 
other  considerations,  and  I  feel  that  you  will  be 
sensible  and  do  the  same.  Maudie  has  still  to  learn, 
as  far  as  I  know,  the  exact  nature  of  the  way  in 
which  the  Marksbys'  money  is  made." 

"Go  on, "  said  Eegina,  impatiently. 

"Well,  to  go  on,"  said  Mr.  Whittaker,  "is  to  let  the 
blow  fall  without  any  further  fuss. ' ' 

"Let  it  fall!"  cried  Regina  in  a  tone  of 
tragedy. 

"Marksby,"  returned  Alfred,  "is  their  private 
name.    They  trade  under  a  different  one." 

"Yes?" 

"And  Marksby,"  went  on  Alfred,  slowly,  "is  the 
Twopenny  Dinner  King." 

"The  Twopenny  Dinner  King!"  cried  Regina. 
' '  You  mean  they  sell  twopenny  dinners  1 ' ' 

"Yes,  Queenie — twopenny  dinners.  I'm  told  they 
are  excellent — indeed,  young  Harry  told  me  so  him- 
self just  now.  He  has  invited  me  to  go  down  and 
have  lunch  with  him  one  day,  and  he  promises  he 
will  give  me  the  regular  twopenny  fare — not 
by  way  of  entertaining  me,  but  rather  in  order  to 
show  me  that  it  really  could  be  done  at  such  a  price. ' ' 

"And — and — does  Harry  wear  an  apron — and — 
and  serve  twopenny  dinners?" 

"No,  no!  The  concern's  too  big  for  that,"  Mr. 
Whittaker  replied.     He  has  never  done  anything  of 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  115 

that  kind.  It's  a  regular  going  concern — they  em- 
ploy hundreds  of  hands,  make  all  their  own 
sausages,  make  their  own  beef,  mutton,  veal,  pork  and 
ham  pies,  cook  their  own  potatoes  and  green  vege- 
tables. They've  got  about  thirty  of  these  shops — 
Bundaby's  Eating  Houses  they  are  called.  They 
must  be  coining  money." 

"My  daughter  married  to  a  sausage-maker!"  said 
Regina  in  a  bewildered  tone. 

''There's  nothing  in  that,"  Alfred  Whittaker  re- 
joined; there's  nothing  in  that,  my  dear  girl,  provided 
he  makes  his  sausages  good  and  wholesome  and 
enough  of  'em.  But  I  was  afraid  it  would  be  a  bit 
of  a  blow  to  you." 

' '  My  daughter — my  daughter  married  to  a  sausage- 
maker!"  Regina  repeated. 

*'Now,  come,  come,  Queenie,  you  mustn't — you 
mustn't — hang  it  all,  I  don't  know  what  you  mustn't 
do!  The  girl  fancies  the  boy,  and  he  has  plenty  of 
money.  He's  a  nice,  gentlemanly  chap,  and  she'll 
live  in  style.  He's  going  to  have  a  motor  car; 
she'll  live  in  far  better  style  than  we've  ever 
done." 

"But  you  are  not  a  sausage-maker,"  said  Regina. 
''Alfie,  Alfie,  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't  have  married  you 
if  you  had  been  a  sausage-maker." 

The  word  ''sausage"  seemed  positively  to  stick  in 
Regina 's  throat. 

"Queenie,"  said  Alfred,  "you  know  perfectly  well 
that  what  I  was  had  nothing  to  do  with  your 
feelings  towards  me.  If  I  had  been  a  crossing- 
sweeper — " 


116  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

''Alfie,"  said  she,  interrupting  him,  "a  duke  might 
sweep  a  crossing  and  sweep  it  nobly,  and  remain  a 
duke,  unsullied  and  unsoiled;  but  a  duke  would 
never  make  sausages!" 

' '  No,  but  sausages  may  make  a  duke, ' '  said  Alfred, 
promptly.  ''I  know  just  how  you  feel,  my  dear  girl 
— I  felt  a  sort  of  a  lump  come  in  nw  throat  myself 
when  he  told  me — but  he  was  frank  and  unashamed. 
I  should  hate  one  of  my  girls  to  marry  a  man 
who  was  ashamed  of  his  calling,  whatever  it  was. 

*'My  noble  Alfred!"  cried  Regina. 

''I  don't  know  that  I'm  particularly  noble,"  said 
Alfred.  "I.  never  feel  it  if  I  am.  I'm  afraid  it's 
only  your  eyes  that  see  me  in  such  a  light.  But  I 
did  feel  a  bit  of  a  lump  in  my  throat,  a  sort  of  extra 
big  stone  in  my  gizzard,  don't  you  know.  And  then 
it  came  over  me  that  it  is  the  girl's  own  choice,  and 
that  it  is  not  for  me  to  damp  it." 

' '  But  Maudie  doesn  't  know. ' ' 

"In  a  way  she  does,  and  in  another  way  she 
doesn't.  I  asked  young  Harry  if  he  had  told  her 
the  exact  nature  of  his  business.  He  said  no,  he 
hadn't.  He  had  told  her  he  was  in  business  in  the 
city,  that  they  had  a  great  many  branches,  but  he 
had  not  told  her  the  exact  nature  of  it.  'We  never 
think  about  it,'  he  said  'excepting  as  the 
business:  and  if  our  friends  don't  know  that 
Bundaby's  Eating  Houses  belong  to  us,  well, 
we  don't  see  why  we  should  enlighten  them.'  '^ 

"If  nobody  knows — "  began  Eegina. 

"Come,  come,  old  lady,  you'll  have  to 
swallow    it,    and    we    shall    have    to    break    it    to 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  117 

the  little  girl,  unless  young  Harry  does  it 
himself. ' ' 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  before  they  had  any  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  on  the  subject  to  Maudie ;  indeed, 
they  were  still  talking  the  affair  over  when  they 
heard  the  pair  come  into  the  hall,  and  Maudie 
opened  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  they  were 
sitting. 

"Yes,  I  must  go  now,"  said  Harry  Marksby. 
"I've  got  to  be  up  so  fearfully  early  in  the  morning. 
To-morrow  night  I  shall  be  able  to  stay  a  bit 
later." 

He  came  in,  as  he  said,  just  to  say  good- 
night, and  his  way  of  saying  good-night  to 
Maudie 's  mother  did  a  good  deal  to  wipe  the 
word  "sausage"  off  the  slate  of  Regina's  im- 
pressionability. 

"I've  only  come  in  for  a  minute,  Mrs.  Whittaker," 
he  said.  "I  must  be  off  home,  because  I've  got  to  be 
up  awfully  early  in  the  morning.  I  made  half-a- 
dozen  business  appointments  for  to-morrow  ever  so 
early,  before  I  knew  that  ]\Iaudie  and  I  would  quite 
come  to  an  understanding  to-night.  May  I  come 
to-morrow  evening?" 

"You  may  come  whenever  you  like,"  said  Regina. 
"You  had  better  begin,  Harry,  as  you  mean  to^go  on. 
I  have  no  son  of  my  own,  and  the  young  men  who 
take  m.y  girls  away  from  me  must  not  think  they 
are  going  to  rob  me  of  my  daughters — on  the 
contrary,  they  must  make  me  forget  that  I  never  had 
sons. ' ' 

"I  shall  be  very  willing  to  do  that,"  Harry  Marks- 


118  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

by  returned.  "I've  always  managed  to  get  on  with 
my  own  mother  all  right,  and  I  don't  see  why  I 
shouldn't  get  on  with  my  mother-in-law.  It  won't  be 
my  fault  if  I  don't." 

''I'm  sure  it  won't  be  mine,"  said  Regina. 

"No,  I'm  sure  it  won't,"  said  he  heartily.  "Well, 
good-night,  Mrs.  Whittaker."  He  bent  down  and 
kissed  her  just  as  frankly  as  if  she  had  been  his  own 
mother,  and  Regina  choked  a  little  as  the  boy  and  girl 
went  out  of  the  room  together. 

In  a  couple  of  minutes  or  so  Maudie  came  back, 
came  in  with  quite  a  rush  for  one  of  her  quiet  nature, 
and  flung  herself  down  at  her  mother's  feet. 

"I  am  so  happy,  mother  dear,"  she  said.  "You 
have  been  happy  in  your  married  life,  and  you  can 
understand  what  I  feel.  To-morrow  will  be  a  great 
day  for  me.  I  'm  going  to  meet  Harry  in  Bond  Street 
at  four  o'clock,  and  we're  going  to  choose  our  ring 
together ;  and  after  that  I  'm  going  right  down  to  the 
city  with  him,  and  I'm  going  to  have  my  tea  at  one 
of  the  Bunderby  shops.  I  always  did  think  I  should 
like  to  keep  a  shop  mother,"  she  went  on,  "you  have 
heard  me  say  so  lots  of  times,  but  I  never  thought  that 
I  should  one  day  be  at  the  head  of  at  least  thirty !" 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  119 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DETAILS 

The  young  rush  along  the  pathway  of  life  cheerfully  sur- 
mounting or  overturning  every  obstacle,  while  their  more 
cautious  elders  look  on  aghast  at  their  nerve. 

When  once  Harry  :Marksby  had  taken  the  plunge 
and  was  accepted  as  a  lover  of  Handle's,  he  was 
determined  not  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet. 
May  was  then  about  three  parts  over,  and  Harry 
Insisted  that  the  wedding  should  be,  as  he  called  It, 
''  pulled  off  "  before  the  end  of  July. 

''  But  why  this  hurry?  "  asked  Reglna,  who,  in 
spite  of  her  modernity,  still  retained  some  traces  of 
her  aboriginal  ways  of  thought. 

"No  hurry  at  all;  but  why  waste  time,  Mrs. 
Whittaker?"  said  Harry.  "^Yhat  is  there  to  wait 
for?  We  have  plenty  of  money.  I  always  go  away 
for  August,  and,  for  an  occasion  like  this,  my  father 
won't  think  anything  of  it  if  I  take  a  good  share  of 
September  too.  A  man  only  gets  married  now  and 
again,  you  know." 

''  But  why  not  leave  it  till  the  autumn  T' 

"Because  I  want  to  take  Maudie  for  a  good  trip 
abroad.     She  wishes  it— I  wish  it.     ^Vhat   do  you 


120  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

say?  Clothes?  Oh,  surely  we  needn't  consider  a 
few  clothes.  Get  as  little  as  she  can  do  with  for  a 
continental  trip — lay  the  wedding  gown  up  in 
lavender,  and  let  Maudie  buy  the  rest  of  her  things 
in  Paris  as  we  come  home." 

"There's  reason  in  it,"  said  Alfred  Whittaker, 
from  the  depths  of  his  big  chair. 

"I  don't  like  my  daughter  being  married  in  such  a 
hurry  as  this,"  said  Regina,  half  hesitatingly. 

"But  why?  Hurried  marriages  are  the  fashion 
nowadays.  Royalty  pulls  it  off  in  a  couple  of  months 
or  so — long  engagements  are  out  of  date.  I  knew  a 
man  once, ' '  Harry  went  on — ' '  I  didn  't  know  him  very 
well,  but  I  met  him — who  had  been  engaged  to  a  girl 
for  thirteen  years,  and  they  somehow  or  other  didn't 
altogether  hit  it  off  when  they  did  get  married. 
There's  nothing  to  be  gained  by  waiting.  You  don't 
really  get  to  know  one  another  until  the  knot  is 
actually  tied.  I  know  ]\Iaudie  as  well  now  as  I 
should  know  her  if  I  was  engaged  to  her  for  seven 
years. ' ' 

"I  don't  want  you  to  wait  seven  years,"  said 
Regina. 

"Well,  I  should  hope  not,"  replied  Harry. 

"But  as  many  months — "  began  Regina,  when 
Harry  Marksby   impetuously   interrupted  her. 

"Oh  no,  Mrs.  Whittaker,"  he  exclaimed.  "Maudie 
would  be  worn  to  fiddlestrings  long  before  seven 
months  were  over.  The  end  of  July,  if  you  please. 
I  can  work  all  my  business  up  to  that  point — then 
everything's  slack,  it's  a  sort  of  off-time,  so  to  speak 
— and  I  can  go  away  with  a  clear  conscience  and 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  121 

give  my  wife  a  ripping  honeymoon — get  a  ripping 
honeymoon  myself,  for  the  matter  of  that." 

"You  have  decided  where  you  want  to  go?" 
Regina  inquired. 

"Yes,  we're  going  to  Switzerland,  taking  the 
Rhine  on  our  way  and  the  Italian  lakes  as  we  come 
back;  get  a  fortnight  in  Paris,  or  if  we  drive  it  too 
late  for  that,  stay  three  or  four  days  in  Paris,  and 
perhaps  go  back  again  for  a  few  days  in  the  early 
autumn — if  Maudie  wants  clothes,  that  is  to  say," 

*'I  sha'n't, "  said  Maudie.  'I  am  not  going  to  get 
my  dresses  in  Paris.  I've  come  to  see  now  that  we 
made  fools  of  ourselves  when  we  came  home  from 
school  with  everything  Parisian.  They  were  horrid, 
and  were  a  full  year  in  advance  of  the  fashions  here. 
I  hate  being  a  year  ahead  of  the  fashions — it's  quite 
as  bad  as  being  two  years  behind  them.  I  would  much 
rather  not  have  all  my  things  bought  now,  mother.  I 
think  Harry  is  quite  right.  A  couple  of  good  tailor- 
dresses,  a  few  muslins,  my  wedding  dress,  and  a  tea- 
gown,  and  other  things  of  that  kind,  are  necessary, 
but  I  can  get  my  further  trousseau  as  I  want  it. ' ' 

''I  call  that  a  practical  suggestion,"  put  in  Alfred 
Whittaker. 

''Most  practical,"  agreed  Harry.  "That  was  why 
I  was  fascinated  in  the  first  instance  by  Maudie — 
she  is  so  practical." 

"Do  you  want  a  wife  to  be  altogether  practical?" 
demanded  Julia,  while  Maudie  looked  up  anxiously, 
as  if  her  beloved  Harry  was  about  to  find  some  flaw 
in  her. 

A  most  odd  look  flashed  across  the  young  man's 


122  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

keen  face.  ''You'll  understand  one  day,"  he  said, 
addressing  Julia  directly.  ''You'll  understand,  and 
you'll  sympathize  with  me.  A  fellow  likes  a  wife 
who  knows  how  many  beans  make  five.  A  fool  has 
no  charm  for  any  man,  except  he's  too  big  a  black- 
guard to  want  his  wife  to  find  him  out.  As  regards 
frocks,  and  the  spending  of  money,  and  the  business 
side  of  life,  a  man  does  like  his  wife  to  be  altogether 
practical. ' ' 

"That  implies  another  side  of  the  picture,"  said 
Julia. 

"Yes,  it  does.  And  the  other  side  of  the  picture  is 
me  and  those  that  may  come  after  me ;  and  if  a  man 
is  a  straight,  clean  wholesome  man,  he  likes  his  wife 
to  be  altogether  sentimental  as  regards  him,  and 
those  that  come  after  him.  You  will  understand  me 
some  day,  Julia,  my  dear." 

Maudie's  face  dropped  instantly,  and  something 
like  the  flash  of  diamonds  came  into  her  eyes.  She 
heaved  a  great  sigh,  a  tremulous  sigh,  not  one  of 
pain ;  and  hearing  it,  Harry  Marksby  caught  hold  of 
her  hand  and  tried  to  pull  her  ring  off.  And  Maudie 
began  to  laugh  with  those  tell-tale  little  twinkling 
drops  bedewing  her  eyelashes,  and  Regina  looked  on, 
much  as  an  elephant  might  regard  her  offspring  at 
play,  with  a  look  which  only  required  a  little 
encouragement  for  her  to  put  it  into  words.  And  if 
that  look  had  been  put  into  words,  they  would  have 
been  but  three — "My  nohle  hoyT' 

"Ah,  well,"  said  Julia,  now  busy  a  few  yards 
away,  "you  are  not  half  good  enough  for  our  Maudie, 
Harry.     You  are  taking  away  the  biggest  part  of 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  123 

my  life,  and  of  course  you  are  very  cock  o'  whoop 
about  it;  but  if  you're  not  good  to  her,  Harry,  you 
will  have  to  reckon  with  me." 

"All  right,  I'll  be  there  when  you  want  me," 
Harry  replied.  "Then  we  may  take  it,  Mrs. 
Whittaker,"  he  continued,  with  a  change  of  tone, 
"that  the  end  of  July  will  be  the  date  to  work  to?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Regina,  "if  her  father  has  no 
objection." 

"I  detest  long  engagements  myself,"  said  Alfred 
Whittaker.  "I  never  could  see  the  good  of  them. 
I  was  engaged  much  too  long  to  you,  my 
dear." 

"It  was  the  happiest  time  of  my  life — "  Regina 
began,  somewhat  wistfully. 

"Oh,  don't  say  that,"  her  husband  interrupted, 
"don't  say  that.  It  might  have  been  happier  than 
any  time  that  went  before — I  know  it  was  for  me — 
but  at  best  it  is  only  a  foreshadowing,  it's  only  like 
water  to  wine,  like  moonlight  to  sunlight.  There, 
there,  children,"  he  said,  flinging  out  his  hands  with 
a  deprecating  gesture,  "there,  there,  your  old  dad 
doesn't  often  get  so  sentimental  as  that.  The  end  of 
July  let  it  be,  and  after  that  we  shall  all  go  away 
and  breathe  freely." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  after  that  Ye  Dene  became 
like  a  seething  whirlpool.  Such  a  coming  and  going, 
such  a  dumping  of  parcels  and  patterns  and  presents, 
such  sending  out  of  invitations  and  receiving  of 
congratulations  there  was,  that  more  than  once  even 
Regina  herself  admitted  that  two  months  was  quite 


124  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

long  enough  for  a  young  couple  to  be  engaged  in 
these  modern  days. 

The  Marksby  family  were  frankly  and  undeniably 
delighted  and  overjoyed  at  the  new  state  of  affairs. 
They  received  ]\Iaudie  with  wide-open  arms,  lavished 
their  love  and  admiration  and  gifts  upon  her.  Papa 
]\Iarksby  came  across  to  Ye  Dene  one  evening,  and 
was  solemnly  closeted  with  Alfred  Whittaker  for  the 
space  of  a  whole  hour,  during  which  time  they 
smoked  extremely  long  cigars,  drank  whisky-and- 
soda  out  of  extremely  long  tumblers,  and  went 
solemnly,  although  in  very  friendly  fashion,  into 
extremely  long  figures. 

And  then  Alfred  Whittaker  introduced  his  future 
son-in-law's  father  into  the  circle  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  Papa  Marksby  informed  Regina  in  a  voice 
of  much  satisfaction  and  some  oiliness,  that  he  and 
his  good  friend  and  neighbor  had  settled  all  the  little 
details  of  future  ways  and  means  for  the  young 
couple. 

"Fifty  thousand  pounds,  my  dear  Queenie, "  said 
Alfred  Whittaker,  when  he  found  himself  once  more 
alone  with  his  wife. 

"Fifty  thousand  pounds,  Alfiel  What  do  you 
mean  ? ' ' 

"Fifty  thousand  poiuids,  as  our  neighbor  across 
the  road  puts  it,  '  to  be  tied  to  Maudie  's  tail ! '  " 

"You  mean  to  say  he's  going  to  settle  fifty  thou- 
sand pounds  upon  her?" 

"I  do.  Papa  Marksby  isn't  the  man  to  do  things 
by  halves.  He  puts  it  very  clearly  and  in  a  very 
business-like  manner,  that  he  has  set  aside  the  sum 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  125 

of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  to  be  divided 
equally,  on  their  marriage,  between  his  two  daughters 
and  his  prospective  daughter-in-law.  He  says  he  can 
well  afford  it,  that  it  w^on't  affect  the  business  the 
least  little  bit  in  the  world,  and,  whatever  happens, 
the  three  girls  will  always  be  safe,  they  and  their 
children  after  them.  It's  a  wonderful  thing,"  he 
went  on,  ''that  two  girls  like  Rachel  and  Emmeline 
Marksby,  with  fifty  thousand  pounds  apiece  to  their 
fortune — to  their  immediate  fortune,  one  may  say — 
should  remain  unmarried,  and  our  little  Maudie,  who 
hasn't  and  never  will  have,  more  than  a  third  of  that 
sum,  should  snap  up  a  big  prize  as  she  has  done." 

''I  knew  they  were  well  off,"  said  Regina,  ''I  knew 
it  in  many  ways  as  soon  as  they  came  here,  but  I  am 
not  surprised  that  Maudie  has  made  this  wealthy 
marriage.  She  is  very  beautiful — very  beautiful. 
"What  surprises  me  is  that  the  ]\Iarksbys  should  turn 
out  to  have  so  much  money.  He  gave  over  a  hundred 
pounds  for  her  engagement  ring,  and  next  week  he's 
going  to  buy  her  a  diamond  necklace.  Think  of  my 
daughter  with  a  diamond  necklace." 

''That  is  as  it  should  be,"  said  Alfred,  compla- 
cently.   ' '  Even  when  it  is  made  out  of  sausages. ' ' 

"Dear,  dear,  Alfie,  how  you  do  harp  on  those 
sausages ! " 

"My  dear,  I  went  and  lunched  on  them  the  other 
day— excellent,  excellent!  Don't  know  how  they  do 
it  for  the  money.  I  saw  the  whole  process — went  over 
the  factory.  Everything  as  clean  as  a  new  pin;  you 
could  eat  your  dinner  off  the  floor." 

<^I_I_(ion't  know,"  said  Regina.     "It  seems  a 


126  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

little. —  However,  having  put  my  hand  to  the  plough, 
I  am  not  one  to  look  back.  Once  my  daughter  has 
married  sausages,  I  will  honor  sausages!" 

''You  will  certainly  be  able  to  honor  a  good  deal 
that  sausages  will  give  her,"  said  Alfred  Whittaker. 
"And  now,  Queenie,  there's  a  subject  on  which  I  have 
been  trying  to  get  a  word  with  you  for  the  last  week 
or  more.  What  are  we  going  to  give,  Queenie,  for 
our  wedding  present?" 

But  that  was  not  a  question  to  be  answered  off- 
hand. It  was  a  matter  requiring  much  consideration, 
consultation — divination,  I  might  say.  The  major 
points  of  the  coming  ceremony  were  all  arranged ;  the 
bride's  dress,  the  costumes  of  the  maids,  the  favors 
for  the  men,  and  the  wording  of  the  invitations.  It 
was  the  last  and  greatest,  and  perhaps  the  least  easy 
to  decide — what  should  be  the  present  of  the  father 
and  mother  of  the  bride. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  12- 


CHAPTER    XIV 

DIAMOND  EARRINGS 

It  is  an  accepted  rule  that  a  gift  is  enhanced  if  it  comes  in  the 
nature  of  a  surprise. 

The  great  question  was  not  settled  exclusively  by 
]\[r.  and  Mrs.  Whittaker. 

''You  must,"  said  Alfred  to  his  wife  in  the  sanctity 
of  their  sleeping  apartment,  "find  out  what  Maudie 
would  like  to  have  for  her  wedding  present  from  us. 
I  wouldn  't  buy  her  '  a  pig  in  a  poke, '  she  '11  have  too 
many  of  such  articles,  and  it  is  important  that  she 
should  have  something  from  us  that  she  really 
wants. ' ' 

"The  question  is,"  said  Regina  to  her  lord,  "what 
your  ideas  are  on  the  subject." 

"No,  my  dear  Queenie,  my  ideas  will  not  make  the 
least  difference,"  he  returned,  as  he  carefully  exam- 
ined one  side  of  his  respectable  face  to  see  if  he  had 
scraped  it  sufficiently  clean.  "I  can  afford,  my  dear 
Queenie,  to  give  you  a  free  hand  in  this  matter.  I  only 
stipulate  that  it  shall  be  something  that  Maudie  wants 
— really  wants.     A  grand  piano?" 

"Not  a  grand  piano,"  said  Regina.  "Mr.  Marks- 
by's  rich  aunt  is  giving  them  that." 


128  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

''Bless  me!  I  didn't  know  they  had  a  rich  aunt. 
I  thought  Mr.  Marksby  had  made  all  the  money  in 
the  family.  Well,  there  are  plenty  of  things  to  make 
a  choice  of,  silver  for  the  table,  furniture  for  the 
drawing-room,  a  brougham — anything  else  that  she 
likes  and  that  you  like." 

"Well,  I  will  have  a  little  chat  with  Julia,"  said 
Regina,  with  that  rapt  air  of  contemplation  which  was 
all  her  own.  "Julia  is  a  girl  with  ideas,  Julia  is  far 
removed  from  the  commonplace,  Julia  is  a  genius." 

"Well,  said  Alfred  Whittaker,  "I  don't  know  that 
it  takes  much  genius  to  choose  a  wedding  present." 

"In  a  sense,  dear  Alfie,  in  a  sense.  But  there  is 
one  question,  dearest,  that  you  must  decide.  How 
much  is  our  wedding  present  to  cost?" 

"Well,"  said  Alfred,  as  he  gave  his  face  a  final  rub 
with  the  towel,  "thank  God  I  am  able  to  give  a  hun- 
dred pounds  for  my  girl's  wedding  present,  to  give 
her  a  decent  trousseau  and  to  give  her  a  decent  dot. 
What  you  like  to  add  to  that  is  your  own  affair. 
There,  now,"  he  said,  as  he  threw  the  towel  on  the 
rail  by  the  washstand,  "I  can't  waste  another  mo- 
ment, I  must  get  my  tub,  charming  as  your  conver- 
sation always  is." 

He  whisked  out  of  the  room,  a  quaint  figure  enough 
in  his  demi-toilette.  But  Regina  saw  nothing  quaint 
about  her  lord  and  master.  "A  handsome  man  with 
a  presence,"  was  her  usual  description  of  him.  But 
there  are  moments  when  the  state  of  being  which  we 
describe  as  "a  presence"  has  its  grotesque  aspects, 
and  surely  the  flight  to  the  bathroom  is  one  of  them. 
Mrs.  Whittaker  might  have  been  the  little  blind  god 


MRS.  WHITTAKEB  129 

herself  for  all  she  saw  of  the  grotesque  in  her  noble 
Alfred. 

"A  hundred  pounds,"  she  murmered,  stopping  in 
the  process  of  arranging  her  hair  for  the  day  in  order 
to  rest  the  end  of  her  hair  brush  on  the  edge  of  the 
toilet-table,  and  gazing  at  herself  fixedly  in  the  glass. 
''A  hundred  pounds!  And,  thank  goodness,  I  can  if 
need  be  put  a  hundred  pounds  of  my  own  to  it;  I 
have  only  two  darlings.    I  must  consult  Julia." 

Mrs.  Whittaker  took  the  earliest  opportunity  of  a 
chat  with  her  younger  flower.  It  was  not  many  min- 
utes after  Alfred  Whittaker  had  departed  for  his 
office  that  a  maid-servant  came  running  across  from 
Ingleside  with  a  message  to  the  effect  that  three  large 
parcels  had  come  for  the  bride,  as  she  was  affection- 
ately called  on  both  sides  of  the  road,  and  would  Miss 
Maudie  please  come  across  and  open  them,  as  the 
young  ladies  were  dying  to  know  what  they  contained. 
So  Maudie  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  Ingleside, 
and  Mrs.  Whittaker  seized  the  opportunity  of  broach- 
ing the  important  subject  that  was  uppermost  in  her 
mind  to  Julia. 

"Don't  go  away,  Julia,"  she  said,  almost  ner- 
vously. 

''Yes,  mother  darling,  what  is  the  matter?" 

''Nothing  is  the  matter.  But  I  want  to  consult 
you. ' ' 

"Oh,"  said  Julia,  with  a  little  air  of  conscious 
pride,  ' '  and  what  do  you  want  to  consult  me  about  ? ' ' 

"  It  is  about  our  present — your  father 's  and  mine. ' ' 

"I  should  ask  Maudie  herself." 

"No,  your  father  wants  it  to  be  a  surprise,  quite  a 

9 


130  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

surprise.  I  thought  if  you  knew,  or  could  find  out 
something  she  really  wants,  I  could  go  to  town  and 
meet  your  father  and  get  it  settled." 

''What  is  daddy's  idea?" 

"Your  father's  idea  is  a  grand  piano,  but  Mr. 
Marksby's  aunt  is  giving  them  that." 

''Well,  they  don't  want  two,"  said  Julia,  sensibly. 
"The  employees  are  giving  them  table  silver,  and  the 
directors  are  giving  them  three  silver  bowls.  If  I 
were  you  I  should  give  IMaudie  diamond  earrings. ' ' 

' '  You  think  she  would  like  them  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  dear  mother;  every  woman  who  has  had  her 
ears  pierced  likes  diamond  earrings." 

"What  sort  of  diamond  earrings?" 

"Oh,"  said  Julia,  "there  can  be  no  doubt  the  sort. 
Have  the  biggest  single  stones  that  you  can  squeeze 
out  of  the  money." 

So  the  great  question  was  settled,  and  a  day  or  two 
later  Mrs.  Whittaker  and  Julia  went  up  to  town  and 
lunched  with  the  noble  Alfred.  They  liuiched  at  a 
very  cosy  little  restaurant  not  a  thousand  yards  from 
Charing  Cross.  A  spoonful  of  white  soup,  a  scrap  of 
salmon,  a  serve  of  chicken  stewed  in  the  French 
fashion  in  the  pot,  and  some  asparagus,  washed  down 
by  some  excellent  white  wine,  and  followed  by  a 
black  coffee  and  a  liqueur,  made  the  trio  very  much 
inclined  to  look  on  the  rosy  side  of  life.  Then  they 
got  into  a  hansom,  Julia  sitting  bodkin-wise,  and 
drove  off  to  the  jeweler's  at  which  Mrs.  Whittaker 
had  decided  that  they  would  buy  Maudie's  earrings. 
Their  choice  fell  upon  a  pair  which  the  shopman 
described  as  "fit  for  an  empress."     They  were  not 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  131 

vulgarly  large,  but  they  were  of  the  purest  water, 
and  of  the  most  dazzling  brilliance. 

"You  think,"  said  Mrs.  Whittaker  to  Julia,  ''you 
think  that  Maudie  would  like  these  better  than  the 
larger  ones?" 

''Oh  yes,  mother,  there's  no  comparison.  The  big 
ones  don't  look  better  than  paste:  these  are  unmis- 
takably the  real  thing." 

"It  is  a  pleasure  to  sell  diamonds  to  so  good  a 
judge,"  said  the  gentleman  who  was  attending  to 
them. 

"I  should  have  thought,"  said  Alfred  Whittaker, 
in  his  most  prosaic  manner,  "that  as  long  as  you  sold 
your  goods  it  would  not  matter  to  whom  you  sold 
them." 

Excuse  me,  sir,  that  is  where  you  make  a  mistake. 
We  have  a  lady  customer — she  is  a  duchess — who 
frequently  brings  her  jewels  to  be  cleaned.  She  says 
her  maid  is  a  child  at  jewel-cleaning.  It  is  not  our 
business  to  say  to  the  contrary,  but  that  lady  kills 
every  diamond  in  her  possession. ' ' 

"How  kills?"  said  Julia. 

"I  cannot  say,  madam.  Something  in  her  magnet- 
ism causes  the  stones  to  look  dead  and  slatey.  The 
stones  that  she  has  had  in  her  possession  and  worn 
continually  for  the  last  twenty  years  are  not  now 
worth  a  twentieth  part  of  what  was  originally  paid 
for  them — all  the  fire  has  gone  out  of  them.  Whether 
they  would  recover  themselves  by  being  worn  by  a 
magnetic  wearer  I  do  not  know.  We  have  a  young 
lady  here  in  our  establishment  of  quite  radiant  mag- 
netism.   She  does  no  work,  but  gets  a  good  salary  and 


132  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

simply  remains  here  and  occupies  herself  as  she  likes 
and  wears  certain  jewels  a  certain  number  of  times. 
Sometimes  when  that  particular  lady — the  duchess — 
is  anxious  to  make  a  great  appearance  on  some  special 
occasion,  we  have  her  best  stones  for  a  month  or 
even  longer.  This  young  lady  of  ours  wears  them  all 
day  long,  and  I  can  assure  you  it  is  an  odd  sight  to 
see  her  with  her  two  hands  covered  with  rings,  even 
her  thumbs,  her  arms  loaded  with  bracelets,  one  dia- 
mond necklace  worn  in  the  ordinary  way,  and  another 
one  worn  over  her  shoulders. ' ' 

''And  the  diamonds  recover  their  color?" 

' '  Oh  yes,  madam,  but  these  are  only  the  stones  that 
her  Grace  wears  occasionally.  I  have  been  told,"  he 
went  on,  "that  their  brilliance  never  lasts  with  her, 
and  that  long  before  the  Drawing-room,  or  whatever 
the  function  may  be,  is  over,  they  look  as  if  they  had 
been  black-leaded.  You  can  quite  understand,  sir," 
he  said,  turning  to  Alfred  Whittaker,  that  it  is  posi- 
tive pain  to  me  to  sell  any  of  our  best  diamonds  to 
such  a  wearer." 

"Well,"  said  Alfred,  "the  lady  who  is  going  to 
wear  these  earrings  will  never,  I  think,  trouble  you 
in  the  same  way." 

"Oh  no!"  said  Julia. 

And  then,  somehow,  the  idea  was  born  that  Alfred 
Whittaker  should  give  a  little  trifle  of  remembrance 
to  Regina  and  their  daughter.  The  little  trifle  of  re- 
membrance consisted  of  a  very  handsome  torquoise 
ring  for  the  mother  and  a  very  smart  bangle  for  the 
girl. 

"I  had  no  idea,  dear  daddy,"  said  Julia,  "of  your 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  133 

buying  me  anything  to-day.     I  have  been  wanting 
one  of  these  bangles  for,  oh!  such  a  long  time." 

"And  you  never  breathed  it!"  said  Regina. 

"I  never  thought  of  it,"  said  Julia;  "but  I  am  all 
the  more  delighted  because  I  did  not  think  of 
anything  for  myself." 

Then  they  departed  carrying  with  them  the  lovely 
earrings  which  ]\Iaudie  was  to  wear  in  remembrance 
of  home  as  long  as  she  should  live. 

"They  know  you  in  that  shop,  daddy,"  said  Julia, 
as  they  walked  back  toward  Piccadilly. 

"Oh  yes,  I  have  gone  there  for  years;  but  how  do 
you  know  that  they  knew  me?" 

"Oh — from  the  way  they  said  'good  day'  to  you 
when  you  went  in,  and  then  you  brought  the  earrings 
away  with  you  and  only  paid  for  them  by  cheque — 
to  say  nothing  of  my  beautiful  bangle  and  mother's 
ring. ' ' 

At  this  Alfred  Whittaker  laughed  and  said  that 
being  known  at  shops  like  this  was  one  of  the 
advantages  of  having  a  solid  business  behind  one. 
Then  they  looked  into  one  or  two  windows,  and  Mrs. 
Whittaker  beguiled  Alfred  into  a  certain  lace  shop 
under  the  excuse  that  she  was  going  to  wear  a  lace 
garment  at  the  wedding  and  that  she  wanted  him  to 
help  her  to  choose  it.  Then  they  went  to  some  very 
smart  tea-rooms  and  refreshed  themselves  after  the 
usual  manner  of  five  o'clock,  and  then  they  went 
home  to  Ye  Dene,  where  they  found  Maudie,  who 
had  just  come  in,  struggling  with  a  perfect  avalanche 
of  presents. 


134  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

''Where  did  you  get  that  hearts"  said  Julia,  look- 
ing fixedly  at  her  sister. 

Maudie's  hand,  the  one  with  the  diamonds  on  it, 
touched  the  jewel.  ''Oh,  my  heart,"  she  said  in  her 
soft,  cooing  voice.  ' '  Harry  has  been  over,  he  brought 
it  from  town — he  wants  me  to  wear  it  always.  See, 
it's  got  a  little  miniature  of  him  at  the  back.  He 
thought  I  should  like  to  have  it  to  be  married  in- 
just  his  heart,  you  know — because  I  had  decided  not 
to  wear  my  necklace,  or — my — er — fender." 

"A  very  pretty  idea,"  said  Regina,  beaming 
proudly  upon  the  bride-elect,  with  an  expression  as 
if  the  thought  had  emanated  from  her  brain  instead 
of  that  of  the  bridegroom-to-be.  "We  have  come 
from  town,  your  father  and  I,  and  we  have  brought 
you  a  present." 

"  Oh !  you  darlings !  What  have  you  brought  me  ? 
But  I  know  it  is  something  nice." 

"It's  not  very  big,"  said  her  father,  producing  the 
little  packet  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  "but  we  hope 
you  will  like  it  all  the  same." 

' '  Oh,  a  ring, ' '  cried  Maudie,  as  she  caught  sight  of 
the  box.  "I  love  rings  more  than  anything  else,  and 
it  is  so  sweet  and  kind  of  you  to  remember  my  little 
tastes,  and  to  give  me  something  that  I  can  carry 
about  with  me  always  when  I  am  not  living  here  any 
more." 

Regina  looked  hard  out  of  the  window.  In  spite 
of  her  pride  at  her  girl's  approaching  marriage,  it 
was  a  bitter  wrench  to  her  to  think  that  she  soon 
would  have  only  one  child  in  the  home  nest.    Indeed, 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  135 

she  looked  forward  further  still  to  the  time  when  she 
and  Alfred  would  be  Darby  and  Joan,  with  no  young 
life  to  disturb  the  serenity  of  their  daily  round.  It 
was  the  voice  of  Julia  which  brought  her  back  to 
earth  again. 

*'Now  come,  don't  stand  there  rhapsodizing  about 
it,  but  open  your  parcel,  old  lady,  and  see  what  luck 
will  send  you,"  she  said  to  her  sister.  "I  am  sure 
Harry  has  given  you  rings  enough.  You  don't  credit 
mother  and  father  with  over-much  sense  when  you 
think  they  would  give  you  something  of  which  Harry 
has  already  given  you  a  dozen." 

At  this  moment  Maudie  gave  a  faint  scream.  ' '  Oh, 
you  darlings !  you  darlings !  I  never  thought  of  this ; 
I  don't  know  which  of  you  to  kiss  first.  Oh,  oh, 
what  will  Harry  say  ?  Oh !  Julia,  you  had  a  hand  in 
this.  Single  stone  earrings!  Oh,  they  are  too  good 
for  me." 

''Why  should  you  say  they  are  too  good  for  you?" 
said  Regina.  **  Nothing  is  too  good  for  me  to  give 
my  daughter." 

''But  you  were  right  in  one  thing,"  said  Julia,  as 
Maudie  slipped  one  of  the  sparkling  stones  from  its 
nest  of  white  velvet,  and  insinuated  the  gold  ring 
into  her  ear,  "they  have  given  you  something  that 
you  can  wear  every  day." 


136  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 


CHAPTER    XV 


A  GOLDEN   DAY 


Most  people  detest  tears  at  a  wedding,  and  yet  weddings  give 
much  more  cause  for  tears  than  funerals. 

At  last  Maudie  Whittaker  's  wedding  day  dawned — 
a  golden  July  day,  fair  and  still,  without  being 
oppressively  hot.  I  think  I  have  already  said  that 
the  houses  of  Marksby  and  Whittaker  were  situated 
in  one  of  the  main  roads  of  that  favorite  residential 
locality  which  is  known  to  Londoners  as  Northampton 
Park,  and  to  its  residents  as  ''the  Park,"  without 
any  distinguishing  prefix.  A  stranger  passing  along 
Milton  Avenue  might  have  wondered  what  great 
function  was  afoot,  for  at  both  houses  flags  were 
flying,  and  on  lines  stretched  across  from  house  to 
house,  amidst  streaming  pennons,  was  a  great  green 
and  white  marriage  bell.  From  the  gate  to  the  porch 
of  Ye  Dene  Alfred  Whittaker  had,  some  two  years 
before,  erected  a  covered  glass  way,  almost  a  con- 
servatory. This  was  lined  with  flowers  and  carpeted 
with  red  felt.  A  couple  of  stalwart  commissionaires 
stood  at  either  side  of  the  entrance,  and  a  crowd  of 
the  poorer  denizens  of  the  Park  had  gathered  to 
watch  the  coming  and  going  of  the  wedding  guests. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  137 

I  must  tell  you  at  once  that  on  this  occasion  Regina 
was  truly  great. 

''Mother,"  Maudie  had  said  on  the  previous  eve- 
ning, when  she  bade  her  parents  good-night  for  the 
last  time  as  Maudie  AVhittaker.  ''Mother  darling 
there's  one  thing  that  you  must  not  do  to-morrow. 

"What  is  that,  my  loveT'  said  Regina. 

"You  will  not  cry  when  you  get  to  church,  and 
you  will  not  cry  when  we  go  away,  will  you?  Re- 
member that  in  Harry  you  are  gaining  a  son,  not 
losing  a  daughter." 

"No,"  said  Regina,  "no,  I  shall  not  disgrace  you. 
At  the  same  time,  Maudie,  my  love,  if  I  am  not  losing 
a  daughter  I  am  losing  my  little  girl." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  mother,"  said  Julia,  chiming  in 
to  support  her  sister  and  resolutely  keeping  her 
thoughts  turned  from  the  fact  that  on  the  morrow 
half  her  life  would  be  torn  away ;  ' '  you  mustn  't  think 
that,  dearest.  You  know  the  old  saying,  'my  son  is 
my  son  till  he  gets  him  a  wife,  but  my  daughter's  my 
daughter  all  the  days  of  my  life.'  " 

"Then  I  hope,"  said  Regina,  solemnly,  to  the 
bride-elect,  "that  you  will  never  make  that  poor  little 
woman  across  the  road  feel  that  her  son  is  her  son 
till  he  gets  him  a  wife.  But  rest  assured  of  one  thing, 
Maudie  darling,  your  mother  will  not  disgrace  you  on 
your  wedding  day.  I  was  at  a  wedding  a  few  years 
ago  when  the  bride's  mother  howled  persistently  all 
through  the  ceremony  and  till  the  bride  departed  on 
her  honeymoon.  They  had  not  been  on  such  terms 
as  we  have  always  been — in  fact,  if  Constance 
Colquhoun  had  not  fortunately  found  a  husband,  it 


138  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

is  very  certain  that  Mrs.  Colquhoun  and  she  would 
have  parted  company  rather  than  have  gone  on  living 
together  in  a  continual  state  of  wrangling.  I  have 
no  regrets  for  the  past  and  very  few  fears  for  the 
future.  You  will  have  your  ups  and  downs,  my 
darling,  as  your  mother  has  had  before  you  and  as 
your  children  will  have  after  you.  You  must  look 
for  them  in  this  vale  of  tears,  but  anticipation  of  them 
on  a  joyful  occasion  is  foolish  even  to  criminality." 

Probably  no  sweeter  bride  had  ever  passed  up  the 
aisle  of  the  fantastic  little  church  which  was  alike 
the  spiritual  and  material  centre  of  Northampton 
Park.  It  was  not  that  Maudie  Whittaker  was  a  very 
pretty  girl — no  one  but  her  mother  had  ever  given 
a  second  thought  to  personal  beauty  as  one  of  her 
attributes — but  she  was  soft  and  round  and  fair,  with 
radiant  eyes  and  a  winning  smile.  Her  bridal  gown 
was  simple  and  girlish,  and  her  veil  of  plain  tulle 
enveloped  her  like  a  cloud  of  innocence.  Her  only 
jewel  was  the  diamond  heart  which  her  bridegroom 
had  given  her  for  his  wedding-day  present.  Her 
bouquet  was  a  real  ornament,  a  loosely-arranged  posy 
of  flowers  tied  with  broad  white  ribbon — not  the 
usual  over-weighted  bundle  of  blossoms  showering 
from  the  hand  to  the  ground,  conveying  the  idea  that 
if  the  bride  was  sufficiently  unlucky  to  tread  upon 
the  mass  of  trails,  the  result  would  be  the  complete 
downfall  of  bride  and  bouquet  alike.  The  bridesmaids 
were  quite  reasonably  attired.  Maudie  had  been 
inflexible  on  that  point.  "My  dear  Ju,"  she  had 
said  to  her  sister  when  the  question  was  first  mooted, 
*Hhe  bride  ought  to  choose  the  bridesmaids'  dresses. 


MES.  WHITTAKER  139 

I  have  seen  bridesmaids  in  Charles  II.  dresses,  in 
Tudor  dresses,  in  Directoire  costumes,  and  such  close 
copies  of  Boughton's  Dutch  maidens,  that  one  felt 
they  only  wanted  sabots  to  be  entirely  correct.  I  have 
seen  bridesmaids  with  their  gathers  under  their  arms, 
and  with  pouches  down  to  their  knees.  I  am  going 
to  have  none  of  these  monstrosities.  You  and  I  are 
ordinary-looking  girls,  but,  between  ourselves,  we 
are  dreams  of  style  compared  with  Rachel  and 
Emmeline  Marksby. " 

"Harry  seems  to  have  monopolized  all  the  style  in 
the  Marksby  family,"  said  Julia,  with  a  judicial  air. 

"Oh,  Harry  has  style  enough,"  rejoined  Maudie, 
with  not  a  little  pride  in  her  tones. 

"Yes,  you  are  quite  right,  Rachel  and  Emmeline 
are  two  dear  little  girls,  but  they  are  dumpy  and 
snub-nosed,  and  would  look  ridiculous  in  any  sort  of 
fancy  dress.  You  could  hardly  find  a  greater  con- 
trast to  them  than  the  Ponsonby-Piggots. ' ' 

'  *  Oh,  my  dear,  where  could  you  find  a  greater  con- 
trast than  the  Ponsonby-Piggots  themselves?  One 
girl  as  tall  as  a  lamp  post,  has  straight  features,  and  is 
definite  and  rather  commanding;  and  the  other  is  a 
little  slip  of  a  thing,  with  curly  red  hair,  misty  blue 
eyes,  and  an  air  of  fragility  which  completely  deceives 
the  ordinary  observer.  So  no  monstrosities  and  eccen- 
tricities of  bridesmaids'  dresses  for  me.  I  should  like 
white  crepe  de  chine  frocks  over  turquoise  blue  petti- 
coats, belts  of  some  handsome  embroidery  with  clasps 
studded  with  big  blue  stones  that  will  look  like  tur- 
quoise, and  big  black  hats  with  a  touch  of  blue  under 
the  brim;    Harry  is  going  to  give  them  blue  enamel 


140  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

watches.    There,  I  think  that  is  as  smart  an  idea  for 
bridesmaids'  dresses  as  we  need  trouble  about." 

So  it  was  decided,  and  the  eight  bridesmaids  who 
followed  Maudie  Whittaker  to  the  altar  were  all 
dressed  alike,  as  I  have  just  described.  On  her  left 
breast  each  wore  the  enamel  watch  given  by  the  bride- 
groom, while  the  bride 's  gifts  to  her  bridesmaids  were 
the  embroidered  belts  studded  with  blue  stones. 

Yes,  it  was  a  very  pretty  wedding,  and  Regina, 
resplendent  in  ruby  velvet,  with  a  w^hite  feather  wav- 
ing in  her  coronet  bonnet,  and  over  her  ample  shoul- 
ders a  large  cape  arrangement  of  rich  lace,  sailed  up 
the  aisle  on  the  arm  of  Mr.  Marksby.  She  had  an  air 
of  ''alone  I  did  it"  about  her  which  was  at  the  same 
time  touching  and  misleading.  In  her  tightly-gloved 
hand  she  carried  a  large  posy  of  roses,  and  truly  there 
was  nothing  of  Niobe  in  her  expression  and  demeanor. 
The  service  went  off  without  a  hitch,  the  decorations 
were  lavish,  and  the  little  boys,  who  were  all  that 
could  be  mus'tered  of  the  regular  choir,  wore  clean  sur- 
plices. The  favors  were  extremely  choice,  and  the 
happy  face  of  the  bride  was  more  than  matched  by  the 
radiant  self-satisfaction  of  the  bridegroom.  *'A  de- 
lightful wedding ' '  was  the  general  verdict.  And  then 
there  was  the  streaming  back  to  the  house  just  down 
the  road,  there  was  the  string  of  carriages  belonging 
to  friends  from  town,  the  Park  guests  having  followed 
the  simpler  plan  of  going  afoot.  How  shall  I  describe 
it  all?  The  palms,  the  flowers,  the  gay  dresses,  the 
gently-murmured  felicitations,  the  health  drinking, 
the  speech  making,  the  cake  cutting,  the  present  in- 
specting, which  is  the  usual  course  of  the  smart  wed- 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  141 

ding.  These  things  were  all  there,  for  the  Alfred 
Whittakers  had  given  their  daughter  what  is  gener- 
ally called  ' '  a  good  send-off. ' ' 

Then  there  came  the  terrible  moment  when  Regina 
might  have  been  forgiven  for  breaking  down.  But 
Regina  was  equal  to  the  occasion— Regina  was  a 
woman  of  her  word. 

"Oh,  no,  I  am  not  at  all  inclined  to  break  down," 
she  said  in  reply  to  a  friend  who  was  offering  ju- 
dicious sympathy.  "I  feel  that  in  my  girl's  husband 
I  have  gained  what  I  have  always  longed  for— a  son. 
I  am  going  to  be  a  mother-in-law  quite  out  of  the  or- 
dinary run,  and  I  am  not  going  to  begin  by  making 
him  feel  himself  a  cruel  marauder  who  is  taking  away 
my  most  valued  possession.  I  should  not  like  to  have 
children  who  did  not  marry ;  it  is  a  natural  thing,  and 
Maudie's  choice  is  so  absolutely  ours  that  I  have 
nothing  to  regret  and  everything  to  be  delighted 
with." 

"But  did  not  Maudie  choose  her  own  husband  1" 
said  someone  who  was  standing  by. 

"Oh,  of  course  she  did,  but  if  we  had  chosen  her 
husband  our  choice  would  have  been  Harry 
Marksby." 

It  chanced  that  Harry  was  just  entering  the  house, 
having  been  across  the  road  to  change  his  wedding 
garments  for  traveling  gear.  He  was  in  time  to  hear 
the  whole  of  his  mother-in-law's  reply  to  the  question 
as  to  whether  :Maudie  had  chosen  her  own  husband. 
He  slipped  his  hand  under  her  arm  and  twisted  her 
round  a  little. 

"You  are  not  going  to  be  a  mother-in-law  out  of 


142  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

the  common, ' '  he  said,  ' '  because  you  are  one.  Nothing 
you  could  do  would  be  in  the  common.  But  I  cannot 
thank  you  enough  for  saying  that  if  you  had  chosen 
Maudie's  husband  you  would  have  chosen  me.  And 
I  'm  so  glad, ' '  he  went  on  in  a  lower  tone,  ' '  that  you 
did  not  think  it  necessary  to  treat  us  to  the  usual 
shower  of  maternal  tears  on  this  occasion. ' ' 

'' Perhaps  I  should  have  done,"  cried  Mrs.  Whit- 
taker,  ''if  I  were  not  so  perfectly  happy  in  Maudie's 
choice.  Why  should  I  want  to  weep  over  my  girl's 
happiness?  Why  should  your  mother  want  to  make 
herself  look  a  silly  fright  because  you  have  married 
the  girl  of  your  heart?  We  are  agreed,  are  we  not, 
Mrs.  Marksby?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  always  did  believe  in  young  men  get- 
ting married  as  soon  as  they  are  in  a  position  to 
marry  comfortably.  As  I  said  to  Harry  as  we  were 
having  a  little  talk  last  night,  'Remember,  my  boy, 
that  you  are  marrying  in  a  very  different  position  to 
what  pa  and  me  did.  Pa  and  me  married  to  a  little 
house  with  three  bedrooms  in  the  southeast  district, 
with  never  a  thought  that  we  should  end  up  west, 
and  see  our  boy  married  as  we  have  seen  him  married 
this  day' — didn't  we  pa?" 

'*Yes,  mother,  we  did.  And  I  don't  know  that 
we've  had  any  cause  to  regret  it." 

"I  don't  know  about  you,  pa,"  said  Mrs.  Marksby, 
bridling  visibly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  say  but  that  you  might  have  done 
better,"  said  Mr.  Marksby,  "but  we  were  very  happy 
in  that  little  house,  and  I  only  hope  that  the  young 


MRS     WHITTAKER  143 

people  will  be  as  happy  in  their  beginning  as  we  were 
in  ours." 

*'We  shall  not  be  less  happy  because  we  are  able  to 
afford  a  decent  house  in  the  West  End, ' '  said  Harry, 
sensibly.  ' '  If  we  are,  you  may  take  it  as  certain  that 
we  should  have  been  just  as  unhappy  in  the  cottage 
with  three  bedrooms.  But,  I  say,  Mrs.  Whittaker, 
isn't  Maudie  nearly  ready?  We  sha'n't  catch  that 
train  if  we  don't  look  out.  Ah,  here  she  is.  Come 
along,  my  dear  girl,  come  along;  we've  got  none  too 
much  time  to  spare. ' ' 

Perhaps  it  was  as  well.  There  was  a  moment's 
hesitation  as  Maudie  said  "good-bye"  to  her  mother: 
for  one  instant,  Julia  standing  by,  vigilant  and  keen, 
feared  that  her  mother  was  going  to  break  down  in 
spite  of  all  her  good  resolves.  But  Mrs.  W^hittaker 
was  a  valiant  soul ;  she  pulled  herself  up  sharply  as 
the  little  bride,  holding  her  father's  hand,  went  out 
to  face  the  storm  of  rice  and  old  slippers  which  was 
awaiting  them  outside  the  house. 

"I  loiow,"  she  said,  her  voice  a  little  tremulous  in 
spite  of  her  self-control,  "I  know  she  will  make  a 
good  wife,  because  she  has  been  such  a  good 
daughter. ' ' 

"We  can  cry  quits,  Mrs.  W^hittaker,"  said  the 
mother  of  the  bridegroom,  "for  a  better  boy  to  his 
father  and  mother  than  our  Harry  I  don't  believe 
you  could  find  from  one  end  of  the  earth  to  the 
other." 


144  THE   LITTLE    VANITIES   OF 


CHAPTER    XVI 

OTHER  GODS 

How  little  noise  people  make  when  they  are  suddenly  stricken 
with  great  mental  anguish. 

They  say  that  after  a  storm  there  comes  a  calm,  and 
a  very  true  saying  it  is.  After  the  storm  of  orange 
blossoms  that  raged  around  Ye  Dene  on  that  July 
day,  there  came  a  calm  which  was  broken  only  by  the 
excitement  of  watching  for  the  postman.  The  most 
valuable  of  the  wedding  presents  were  safely  packed 
up  on  the  evening  of  the  wedding  day  and  consigned 
to  Alfred  Whittaker's  private  safe.  The  others  were 
left  in  the  girls'  sitting-room,  carefully  covered  up, 
in  preparation  for  the  long  trip  in  which  the  bride 
and  bridegroom  were  indulging  themselves,  prior  to 
regular  housekeeping. 

For  years  the  Whittakers  had  made  a  point  of 
seeking  a  fresh  holiday  resort  with  each  summer,  and 
this  year,  by  a  kind  of  instinct,  they  decided  not  to 
go  to  an  English  watering-place.  Perhaps  the  feeling 
that  the  bride  and  groom  were  enjoying  themselves 
in  the  Bernese  Oberland,  and  meant  to  cover  a  good 
deal  of  ground  before  they  turned  their  footsteps 
homewards,  made  them  feel  that  the  contrast  of  an 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  145 

English  watering-place  would  be  too  much.  They 
therefore  decided  that  Dieppe  would  be  a  bright  and 
convenient  change  for  them;  but  they  were  not  due 
to  leave  home  until  some  ten  days  after  the  wedding. 

Now,  it  happened  that  Regina,  instead  of  following 
the  usual  course  of  mothers,  and  making  the  little 
absent  bride  into  a  sort  of  deity,  was  possessed  of  a 
feeling  that  she  would  like  in  some  way  to  reward  her 
younger  girl  for  her  helpfulness  at  the  time  of  the 
wedding,  and  the  unselfish  manner  in  which  she  had 
deferred  in  every  possible  way  to  her  sister's  wishes. 
She  therefore  determined  that  she  would  give  Julia  a 
little  surprise  present.  No,  it  was  not  a  birthday,  it 
was  not  any  kind  of  commemoration,  but  she  felt  that 
this  was  an  occasion  on  which  she  could  appropriately 
spend  a  little  money.  Now  Regina  was  amply  blessed 
with  this  world's  goods — I  mean  in  her  own  right. 
Alfred  Whittaker  had  done  extremely  well  in  the 
world,  and  whereas  Regina  had  once  loomed  in  his 
horizon  as  an  heiress  in  a  modest  way,  she  was  now  the 
wife  of  an  exceedingly  warm  man,  and  happy  in  the 
possession  of  a  tidy  little  income  of  her  own.  She 
breathed  not  a  word  of  her  purpose  to  a  soul.  She 
did  not  intend  her  little  gift  to  take  the  form  of 
raiment.  Julia's  father  gave  her  an  ample  dress 
allowance,  and  Regina  was  in  the  habit  of  adding  to 
it  with  special  offerings  at  such  times  as  birthdays 
and  the  season  of  Christmas.  It  was  not  difficult  for 
her  to  carry  out  her  purpose,  for  she  had  but  seldom 
gone  to  town  in  company  with  her  girls.  She  was  so 
busy  a  woman,  she  had  so  many  excuses,  so  many 
appointments    and   engagements    of    a    semi-business 

10 


146  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

kind,  that  her  comings  and  goings  were  not  often 
questioned. 

*'What  are  you  doing  to-day,  Julia?"  she  asked, 
one  morning  at  breakfast,  about  a  week  after  the 
wedding. 

' '  To-day,  mother  dear  ?  Well,  I  have  to  go  out  with 
Emmeline  Marksby  this  morning,  and  unless  you 
want  me  I  am  going  to  lunch  there.  And  then  I  am 
going  to  get  my  new  white  frock  fitted  on,  and  I  am 
going  to  tea  at  the  Dravens. ' ' 

' '  So  you  will  be  occupied  all  day  ? ' ' 

' '  "Why,  do  you  want  me  ? " 

"Not  at  all,  dear  child,  only  I  feel  that  you  must 
be  lonely  now  that  Maudie  has  gone,  and  I  have  at 
least  a  dozen  things  to  occupy  me." 

' '  Oh,  don 't  worry  yourself  about  me ;  I  shall  be 
busy  right  up  to  dinner  time. ' ' 

So  they  went  their  separate  ways,  and  two  hours 
later  Mrs.  Whittaker  might  have  been  seen  deliber- 
ately pacing  up  the  arcade  in  which  was  situated  the 
shop  at  which  Maudie 's  earrings  had  been  bought.  A 
smooth-spoken  young  gentleman  came  forward  to  re- 
ceive her.  Regina  explained  her  pleasure ;  she  wanted 
earrings.  No,  not  for  the  bride ;  for  the  young  lady 
who  was  with  her  when  she  bought  the  bride's  ear- 
rings. Solitaire  earrings?  Yes.  Turquoise  were 
very  nice,  but  she  fancied  that  Miss  Whittaker  did 
not  care  much  about  turquoise.  Did  she  fancy  pink 
coral  ?  Yes,  that  was  a  happy  idea,  so  suitable  for  a 
young  lady.  So  Regina  was  shown  various  solitaire 
earrings  in  that  most  delicate  and  girlish  substance. 
But  even  then  she  was  not  satisfied,  and  the  pink 


MRS  WHITTAKER  147 

coral  earrings  were  set  in  diamonds.  No,  it  was  not 
the  expense;  that  was  not  the  question,  but  Mrs. 
Whittaker  thought  that  not  even  tiny  diamonds 
should  find  a  place  in  the  jewel-box  of  a  very  young 
girl. 

''Pink  coral  without—?" 

''Just  a  few  sparks,  madam,"  said  the  gentleman 
on  the  other  side  of  the  counter,  "they  will  be  a  little 
— well,  a  little  insignificant — as  earrings." 

"Perhaps,"  Mrs.  Whittaker  admitted,  "you  might 
let  me  see  the  turquoise,  I  could  have  those  without 
diamonds. ' ' 

"Yes,  or  pearls.  Solitaire  pearls  are  quite  young 
ladies'  jewelry." 

' '  And  are  they  very  expensive  ? ' '  asked  Regina. 

"Oh  no,  madam.    Let  me  show  you  the  pearls." 

So  another  tray  was  handed  out,  and  yet  another 
tray;  one  containing  all  manner  of  turquoise  studs 
for  the  ears,  and  the  other  showing  an  assortment  of 
pearl  earrings,  from  modest  ones  at  five  guineas  a 
pair  to  some  which  were  far  beyond  Regina 's  means 
or  Julia's  necessities.  Eventually  a  pair  of  pearl 
solitaires  were  chosen  and  paid  for. 

"Yes,  I  shall  take  them  with  me,"  said  Regina, 
opening  her  smart  black  and  gold  wrist  bag  in  order 
that  the  little  jewel-case  might  be  comfortably  nested 
in  company  with  her  small  purse  and  her  pocket- 
handkerchief. 

"I  hope,  madam,"  said  the  shopman,  "that  you 
liked  Mr.  Whittaker's  last  present  to  you." 

"I  like  it  very  much,"  said  Regina,  smoothing  the 
back  of  her  hand,  and  gazing  admiringly  at  the  big 


148  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

turquoise  ring  that  adorned  it,  ''I  think  it  is  a  very 
handsome  ring."  Then  she  looked  straight  into  the 
young  man's  eyes,  "You  were  not  speaking  of  this?" 
she  said,  with  a  gesture  of  her  hand  to  show  that  she 
was  speaking  of  the  ring. 

''No,  madam,"  he  stammered,  ''I  remember  Mr. 
Whittaker  buying  the  ring  and  the  bangle  for  the 
young  lady — I — I  was  thinking  of  quite  another 
customer. ' ' 

At  that  moment  another  figure  came  from  the  office 
behind  the  shop.  It  was,  indeed,  the  assistant  who 
had  actually  attended  to  their  wants  on  the  occasion 
of  her  previous  visit. 

"I  hope,"  said  he,  "that  the  bracelet  that  Mr. 
Whittaker  bought  the  other  day  met  with  your 
approval,  madam." 

For  a  moment  Regina  felt  as  if  the  earth  were 
opening  under  her  feet ;  a  wild  impulse  seized  her  to 
catch  violently  hold  of  something,  and  scream  in  a 
series  of  sharp  intermittent  yelps  as  a  locomotive 
does  when  something  has  gone  wrong,  and  a  wild 
instinct  to  catch  the  two  smooth-faced  young  men  on 
the  other  side  of  the  counter  by  the  ears  and  bang 
their  heads  together — a  feeling  as  if  heaven  and  earth 
were  slipping  away  from  her.  But  Regina  was  a 
remarkable  woman!  She  had  her  vanities  and  her 
weaknesses,  but  in  all  the  emergencies  of  life  Regina 
might  be  counted  upon  for  not  losing  her  head.  In 
spite  of  the  sea  of  tempestuous  emotions  which  surged 
within  her  at  that  moment,  she  maintained  her  dig- 
nity and  her  common-sense. 

"No,"  said  she,  "I  have  not  yet  seen  it.     I  am 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  149 

afraid  that  you  have  given  1113^  husband  away;  as  a 
matter  of  fact  I  have  a  birthday  next  week." 

It  was  the  first  plump  and  deliberate  lie  that  Regina 
had  ever  told  in  her  life.  She  did  not  hurry  out  of 
the  shop — she  even  went  so  far  as  to  choose  a  little 
present  for  her  lord,  going  back  with  a  curious  per- 
sistence to  the  idea  of  pink  coral,  and  bought  for  him 
what  Julia  would  have  described  as  a  perfectly  sweet 
tie  pin,  consisting  of  a  bit  of  pink  coral  set  between 
two  small  but  fiery  diamonds. 

"Mr.  Johnson,"  said  the  younger  of  the  two  assist- 
ants, as  the  door  closed  behind  Regina,  "you  have 
put  your  foot  in  it  this  time. ' ' 

"Why — how — what  d'you  mean?" 

"Simply  this,  that  Mr.  Alfred  Whittaker,  of  Ye 
Dene,  Northampton  Park,  won't  thank  you  for  letting 
on  to  that  good  lady  that  he  was  here  last  week  buying 
a  bracelet  that  she  don't  know  anything  about." 

"Oh  Lord!  I  never  thought  of  it.  She  said  she 
had  a  birthday  next  week. ' ' 

"She  said,  yes,  she  said,  but  that  ain't  any  proof 
to  me ;  I  never  saw  an  old  girl  pull  herself  together  in 
a  neater  manner;  she  even  went  so  far  as  to  buy  a 
tie  pin  on  the  strength  of  it.  But,  mark  my  words, 
Mr.  Alfred  Whittaker  won't  thank  you  for  letting  on 
to  that  lady  that  he  was  here  last  week  buying  that 
bracelet. ' ' 

"If  I  thought  that,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  *'I'd  put 
my  head  straight  in  a  bag. ' ' 

"If  it  had  been  me/'  said  the  other,  "being  a 
youngster  I  might  have  been  excused,  but  an  .old 
hand  like  you — tittle-tattling  about  other  customers' 
purchases — you  ought  to  know  better.'' 


150  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

' '  You  are  quite  right ;  I  deserve  anything  that  may 
come  of  it;  I  don't  think  that  I  have  ever  done  such 
an  idiotic  thing  in  my  life.  What  can  I  do  to  make 
up  for  it?" 

"Nothing,"  said  the  other.  '*If  anything  is  said, 
swear  that  Mr.  Whittaker  told  you  that  the  present 
was  for  his  wife." 

''I  think  he  did." 

"That's  as  may  be.  Anyway,  stick  to  it  through 
thick  and  thin  that  he  mentioned  that  it  actually  was 
for  his  wife. ' ' 

"Well,  don't  tell  any  of  the  others,  Dick." 

"I  shouldn't  dream  of  doing  that,  it  isn't  likely.  I 
might  make  a  slip  myself  one  day,  so  I  am  not  going 
to  point  out  the  slips  of  other  people."  Which,  con- 
sidering the  very  near  shave  the  young  gentleman  had 
had  of  making  the  very  same  slip  not  ten  minutes  be- 
fore, might  be  considered  a  very  feeling  remark. 

Meantime  Regina  had  gone  blindly  along  the  ar- 
cade. She  was  dressed  in  summer  garments,  and  not 
a  few  very  curious  glances  were  cast  at  her.  Twice 
she  stopped  to  look  in  shop  windows  with  eyes  that 
saw  nothing.  The  first  was  a  gunsmith's,  and  the  sec- 
ond was  a  man's  window  of  a  distinguished  boot- 
maker's. Regina  never  knew  the  exact  objects  at 
which  she  had  gazed  during  that  painful  peregrina- 
tion. When  she  got  to  the  end  of  the  arcade  she 
turned  and  walked  back  again,  and  all  the  time  there 
beat  to  and  fro  in  her  brain  an  idea  which  said  that 
Alfred,  her  noble  Alfred,  had  gone  after  other  gods — 
after  other  gods !  Well,  in  the  worst  trials  of  life,  in 
the  griefs  and  shocks  and  sorrows  of  the  newest  and 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  151 

most  unaccustomed  kind,  a  woman  cannot  walk  up 
and  down  a  fashionable  arcade  forever.  When  she 
again  reached  the  entrance  by  which  she  had  gone  in, 
it  occurred  to  her  that  she  must  sit  down  and  think — 
she  must  go  somewhere  where  she  could  be  quiet, 
where  she  could  face  this  new  sensation  which  had 
come  into  her  life.  Her  club  ?  No,  not  her  club.  She 
would  meet  there  women  who  were  interested  in  the 
same  work  as  herself.  If  she  lunched,  and  she  could 
not  be  there  in  the  lunch  hour  without  lunching,  some- 
one would  join  her.  There  was  a  little  pastry-cook's 
where  she  sometimes  lunched  when  she  was  in  a 
hurry;  she  had  never  seen  anybody  there  she  knew, 
she  would  go  there.  To  eat!  No — no! — not  to  eat! 
Regina  Whittaker  was  sure  that  she  would  never  eat 
with  relish  again.  So  she  bent  her  steps  toward  this 
little  side-street  haven,  and,  like  all  women  in  dire 
trouble,  ordered  tea  and  a  muffin ! 


152  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 


CHAPTER   XVII 

REGINA   COMES   TO   A   CONCLUSION 

Have  you  ever  noticed  how  accurately  women  judge  from  small 
circumstances.  Men  call  this  intuition,  and  men  think  of 
intuition  as  being  on  the  same  level  as  instinct. 

If  Regina  had  ordered  a  plate  of  soup  it  would  have 
been  brought  to  her  immediately,  because  at  one 
o'clock  that  comestible  would  have  been  ready  and 
awaiting  the  wishes  of  customers.  But  Regina,  as  I 
have  said,  like  most  women  in  trouble,  ordered  the 
food  and  drink  that  were  nearest  her  heart,  and  there- 
fore she  had  to  wait  while  the  tea  was  brewed  and  the 
muffin  toasted.  The  waiting  did  her  good.  She  was 
alone,  as  it  happened,  in  the  comfortable  room  over 
the  shop,  and  thus  she  was  able  to  grasp  the  situation 
more  clearly  than  she  had  done  while  still  talking  to 
the  jeweler's  assistant,  when  she  had  had  to  consider 
the  ordinary  conventions  of  existence.  Poor  Regina ! 
She  sat  there  by  the  tall  mantelshelf  and  stared  at  the 
paper  roses  which  filled  the  summer  grate.  Her  Al- 
fred, her  noble  Alfred,  had  fallen  from  his  pedestal  — 
he  was  hers  no  longer !  In  all  the  years  of  their  mar- 
ried life,  indeed  in  their  knowledge  of  each  other,  she 
had  never  wronged  Alfred  by  even  so  much  as  a  doubt 
of  his  nobility.    To  her  he  had  been  noble,  truly  noble, 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  153 

kind,  affectionate,  dignified  and  a  highly  successful 
man — and  now  all  was  over ;  her  house  of  matrimony 
had  fallen  about  her  ears  like  a  pack  of  cards — she 
had  been  supplanted  by  another.  Truly  Regina's 
thoughts  were  very  bitter.  She  had  been  supplanted 
by  another — what  was  she  going  to  do?  It  came  to 
her  memory  that  in  times  gone  by,  when  other  women 
had  fallen  upon  evil  days  of  a  like  description,  she 
had  helped  to  bear  their  sorrows  with  a  very  light 
heart.  AVell,  it  had  not  then  entered  her  head  that 
their  portion  might  one  day  be  hers ;  but  now  the  blow 
had  fallen  upon  herself,  and  she  must  perforce  give 
herself  the  same  advice  that  she  had  given  to  others. 
"My  dear,"  she  had  remarked  once  to  a  poor  little 
woman  whose  husband  had  been  spoiled  by  over-much 
adoration,  "you  have  made  one  mistake  in  your  life: 
you  have  been  too  good  to  that  husband  of  yours. 
What  ?  Nobody  could  be  too  good  to  him  ?  You  have, 
my  dear,  and  it  doesn  't  do  to  be  too  good  to  a  man  for 
all  time  whether  he  behaves  himself  or  not ;  it  doesn 't 
do  to  put  all  your  wares  in  your  front  window.  Keep 
something  back;  let  there  be  always  some  little  corner 
of  womanly  dignity  which  men,  even  husbands,  must 
respect."  "But,  ^Mrs.  AYhittaker,"  the  little  woman 
had  replied,  "I  haven't  any  dignity  where  Jack  is 
concerned;  I  don't  want  any  dignity,  I  only  want 
Jack,  and  he  has  gone  away  and  left  me."  How  well 
she  remembered  the  words  as  she  sat  alone  in  the 
pastry-cook's  shop  in  Regent  Street,  how  well  she  re- 
membered! Well,  she  felt  very  much  as  that  little 
woman  had  felt — she  did  not  care  about  her  dignity 
any  more ;  she  only  wanted  Alfred,  and  if  Alfred  was 


154  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

deceiving  her,  if  Alfred  was  living  a  double  life  and 
sharing  his  heart  with  another,  she  only  wanted  to  go 
back  to  the  blissful  time  of  blind  ignorance,  when  to 
her  he  had  been  the  embodiment  of  manly  dignity 
and  robust  virtue. 

She  got  up  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  long  strip 
of  glass  which  was  set  between  the  two  tall  windows. 
It  was  not  a  becoming  glass,  nor  was  it  placed  in  a 
particularly  becoming  light,  and  Regina,  who  had 
been  through  a  storm  of  tempestuous  emotion,  and 
who  bore  upon  her  strongly  marked  countenance  the 
visible  signs  of  her  mental  upheaval,  looked,  frankly 
speaking,  quite  hideous.  At  that  moment  the  young 
lady  who  had  taken  her  order  for  tea  and  muffin 
came  into  the  room  carrying  a  little  tray,  and  Regina 
made  a  slight  pretence  of  adjusting  her  hair  before 
she  went  back  to  the  table. 

''Would  you  prefer  to  sit  here,  or  by  the  window T' 
*'I  think  by  the  window,"  said  Regina.     Her  tone 
was   admirably   careless — so   careless   that   it   almost 
deceived  herself. 

' '  Will  you  have  cream  also  with  your  tea  ? " 
''Yes,  I  think  I  will  have  cream.     Thank  you  very 
much. ' ' 

A  couple  of  minutes  later  Regina  was  once  more 
alone.  Certainly  the  open  window  was  more  comfort- 
able than  the  empty  fireplace  with  its  paper  roses. 
The  tea  was  freshly  made,  and  was  good  of  its  kind, 
the  cream  was  rich,  and  the  muffin  was  the  perfection 
of  a  muffin,  anfl  Regina  sat  with  the  summer  wind  fan- 
ning her  troubled  brow,  and  ate  and  drank  her  simple 
fare  and  was  comforted.    As  she  sat  she  stole  a  glance 


MRS.    AVHITTAKER  155 

at  herself  in  another  strip  of  looking-glass,  in  which 
she  could  see  herself  by  turning  her  head  an  inch  or 
two.     And  as  she  sat  there  and  her  storm-tossed  soul 
was  soothed  and  comforted   b}'  her   little   meal,   she 
began  to  turn  things  over  in  her  mind  with  a  less 
tragic  spirit  than  she  had  done  before.     Perhaps  if 
Alfred  had  been  drawn  away  to  other  gods  it  had  been 
her  own  fault;    Alfred  was  so  handsome,  so  manly, 
had  such  a  presence,   and  she  had  despised  all  the 
trilling  feminine  womanly  things.     She  had  given  up 
so  much  of  her  time  to  the  regeneration  of  women  that 
she  had  let  the  material  part  of  Regina  Whittaker 
take  its  own  course,  and  Nature,  left  to  take  its  own 
course,  is  never  very  attractive.     She  was  too  stout. 
There  are  people  of  the  plimip  little  partridge  order 
who  would  look  frightful  in  a   nearer  approach  to 
their  bones,  but  Regina  had  gone  fat  in  lumps,  and 
Regina 's  eyes  had  never  been  aware  of  the  fact  until 
this  morning.     Too  much  chin,  too  much  nape  of  the 
neck,  too  much  at  the  top  of  the  arms,  too  much  of 
that  which,  even  back  in  Scripture  days  when  coupled 
with  "a  proud  look,"  was  ever  a  subject  for  derision. 
"Never  proud  to  my  Alfred,"  said  she,  leaning  back 
in  her  chair ;   ' '  but, ' '  and  here  she  crossed  her  hands 
just  below  her  waist,  "the  oth^r  is  an  indisputable 
fact." 

As  she  decided  the  question  in  her  own  mind  she 
laid  her  hand  upon  the  little  bell  which  stood  beside 
her  on  the  table. 

"Did  I  ring?"  said  she.  "Oh,  I  was  not  conscious 
of  it.    I  think  I  made  a  mistake  in  having  this  kind  of 


156  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

meal.     I  am  not  accustomed  to  it,  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
taken  nothing." 

"Try  a  sandwich,  madam,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"Sandwich?  I  think  I  am  not  equal  to  sandwich 
to-day.  Something  has  happened  to  me;  I  have  had 
a  shock,  and  you  know  how  we  weak  women  fly  to 
feminine  articles  of  food  when  we  are  in  trouble." 

"I  am  sorry  you  are  in  trouble,  madam." 

"I  came  in  here  knowing  I  should  be  quiet,  and  it 
is  very  quiet." 

"It  is  the  end  of  July.  In  another  week  we  shall 
be  more  quiet  still,  and  after  that,  when  the  country 
people  come,  we  shall  not  know  where  to  turn. 
When  you  come  back  from  abroad  or  from  your 
sojourn  by  the  sea  we  shall  be  as  you  always 
see  us." 

"I  think  I  will  have  another  muffin." 

' '  I  would,  madam.  I  will  tell  them  to  put  plenty  of 
butter  on  it.  And  a  pot  of  tea,  and  a  little  more 
cream  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Regina,  rather  weakly.  The  girl 
disappeared  again,  and  Regina  sat  back  in  her  chair, 
a  very  comfortable  one,  and  felt  that  it  was  pleasant 
to  be  ministered  to,  and  then  fell  to  thinking  about 
herself  again.  How  strange  that  she  had  never 
noticed  any  change  in  Alfred !  He  had  never  seemed 
to  find  her  wanting  in  any  way.  More  than  once, 
even  of  late  years,  he  had  told  her  that  the  girls 
would  never  be  a  patch  upon  her  for  looks,  and  she 
had  accepted  his  tribute  to  her  charms  in  all  good 
faith.  And  then  she  turned  to  the  glass  again  and 
regarded  herself  with  new  eyes — critical  eyes — and 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  157 

she  saw  that  her  dress  was  hideous,  her  bonnet  a 
travesty,  her  hair,  fine  in  quality  and  very  decent  in 
color,  made  nothing  of,  her  gloves  were  too  small 
or  her  hands  too  large.  What  did  it  matter,  the 
result  was  the  same ;  she  was  inelegant,  unfashionable, 
grotesquely  stout — she  was  all  wrong,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  all  she  had  done  by  her  work  for  the  regener- 
ation of  womanhood  had  been  to  cut  herself  adrift 
from  her  own  husband. 

I  have  said  that  Regina  Whittaker  was  a  very 
remarkable  character,  and  I  have  tried  to  show  that 
she  was  a  woman  who  was  accustomed  to  judge  for 
herself  in  most  circumstances  of  life,  and  who,  even 
if  she  took  the  wrong  line,  took  it  on  her  own,  so  to 
speak.  Now,  in  what  I  may  honestly  say  was  the 
bitterest  moment  of  her  life,  she  decided,  judged  and 
determined  on  her  own  line  of  action  just  as  she  had 
done  in  previous  times.  At  this  moment  the  relay  of 
muffin  and  fresh  tea  arrived,  and  Regina,  with  a 
smile  of  thanks,  began  with  an  excellent  appetite  to 
eat  the  second  half  of  her  meal,  and  as  she  ate  her 
thoughts  were  working  busily. 

Alfred  had  fallen  a  victim  to  a  hussy!  That  she 
was  a  hussy  of  tender  years,  as  compared  with  Regina 
herself,  was  evident.  There  was  no  evidence  to 
prove  it,  but  once  the  idea  had  entered  Regina 's 
mind  it  remained  there  and  throve  apace.  This 
ignorant,  youthful,  gay  little  hussy  7nust  he  sup- 
planted, her  influence  must  be  undermined,  and 
Alfred  must  be  lured  back  to  his  original  nobility. 
It  was  curious  that  no  shadow  of  blame  for  the  noble 
Alfred  presented  itself  to  Regina.     If  he  had  been 


158  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

unfaithful  it  was  because  he  had  been  tempted  by  a 
hussy  from  the  allegiance  which  had  stood  the  test 
of  over  twenty  years.  If  he  had  left  her  for  other 
divinities  it  was  because  she  had  not  made  herself 
sufficiently  alluring  to  him;  and  Regina,  as  she  ate 
the  last  piece  of  the  second  muffin,  determined  there 
and  then  that  she  would  mend  her  ways. 

''I  will  go  to  a  beauty  doctor,"  she  told  herself. 
"I  will  get  rid  of  every  blemish  that  has  lessened 
my  attractions  for  him;  I  will  put  myself  in  the 
hands  of  an  expert  dressmaker;  she  shall  dress  me 
like  a  fashion-plate;  I  will  be  young,  I  will  be  slim, 
I  will  be  attractive,  I  will  win  my  husband's  heart 
back  again." 

Then  her  thoughts  ran  towards  the  Society  for  the 
Regeneration  of  Women — that  darling  project  of  her 
later  years,  which  she  now  realized  had  cost  her  very 
dear.  From  that  she  must  free  herself ;  not  publicly, 
not  with  any  ostensible  reason,  except  that  she  had 
worked  sufficiently  long.  Others  must  take  the  reins 
from  her  hands  and  she  must  put  forward  the  plea 
that  new  blood  was  necessary,  even  essential,  in  all 
such  undertakings.  When  she  had  arrived  at  this 
point  she  was  already  quite  cheerful.  She  took  out 
her  purse  from  her  black  and  gold  bag  and  deposited 
a  bright  new  sixpence  under  her  muffin  plate  as  a 
delicate  little  reward  to  the  girl  whose  kindly  words 
had  been  her  first  solace,  then  satisfied  herself  with 
a  long  look  at  Julia's  earrings,  and  then  she 
opened  the  little  case  which  contained  the  tie  pin 
that  she  intended  as  an  offering  to  her  lord  and 
master.     This  she  determined  she  would  not  present 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  159 

to  him.  A  curious  fancy  took  possession  of  her  that 
she  would  give  him  some  little  symbol  of  her  un- 
altered affection  for  him.  She  had  never  heard  that 
pink  coral  was  coupled  with  any  particular  meaning ; 
it  had  no  place  among  what  may  be  called  the  birth- 
day stones.  Now,  Alfred's  birthday  was  in  October, 
so  she  would  choose  him  an  opal — yes,  a  little  tie  pin 
of  opals  with  a  single  diamond  like  a  crystallized 
tear-drop,  and  she  could  say  to  him,  ''This  opal  is  to 
bring  you  luck  in  your  later  years,  and  the  diamond 
has  a  meaning  which  I  will  tell  you  at  some  future 
time — not  now." 

Then  Regina  rose  up,  strong  in  her  new  resolve, 
and,  having  paid  her  money  at  the  desk,  went  out 
into  the  summer  sunshine. 


160  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 


CHAPTER   XYIII 

THE   FIRST   LITTLE   VANITIES 

We  are  often  blamed  for  not  speaking  out  as  soon  as  a  doubt 
enters  our  mind,  yet  oftentimes  the  reticence  which  such 
a  doubt  begets  is  a  saving  grace  which  redeems  and 
sanctifies  our  whole  character. 

It  was  with  quite  a  cheerful  countenance  thatRe- 
gina  went  through  the  rest  of  her  day 's  work.  Arriv- 
ing home  at  Ye  Dene  in  time  for  dinner  she  changed 
her  dress  for  a  cool  and  light  tea-gown,  in  which,  I  am 
bound  to  confess,  she  looked  more  than  anything  like 
a  gigantic  perambulating  baby's  bassinette.  She 
laved  her  face  with  a  little  scented  water,  and,  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  dusted  her  countenance 
with  a  little  powder.  She  did  not  herself  possess 
such  things  as  a  powder-box  and  puff,  but  in 
Maudie's  deserted  bedroom  she  found  on  her 
dressing-table  the  one  which  she  had  used  up  to  the 
morning  of  her  marriage,  for  she  had  naturally  taken 
with  her  on  her  wedding-tour  the  smartly  fitted 
dressing-case  which  had  been  among  her  husband's 
wedding  presents  to  her.  It  was  with  quite  un- 
accustomed hands  that  Regina  sought  for  the  powder- 
box,  and  she  used  the  powder  too  thickly.  Maudie 
had  had  a  pretty  taste  in  powder,  and  prided  herself 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  161 

on  never  using  a  common  kind.  Being  so  very  fair 
she  used  that  of  a  pure  white  tint,  and  when  Mrs. 
Whittaker  had  finished  her  application  of  it  I  must 
confess  she  looked  ghastly. 

"How  dreadful!"  her  thoughts  ran.  **How  can 
women  ever  use  this  stuff  1" 

Then  she  took  a  towel  from  the  towel-rail  and 
rubbed  her  face  vigorously,  shook  the  puff  out  of  the 
window,  and  started  again,  succeeding  this  time  in 
merely  making  herself  of  a  delicate  pallor.  As  she 
descended  the  stairs  her  husband  turned  in  at  the 
gate  and  came  along  the  covered  way  to  the  porch. 
He  noticed  at  once  that  there  was  something  unusual 
in  her  appearance. 

"Well,  Regina,  my  love,"  he  remarked,  "have  you 
been  grilling  in  town  this  hot  day?" 

"Yes,  I  have  been  to  town,  Alfred,"  she  replied, 
trying  hard  to  make  her  tone  quite  an  ordinary  one. 

"You  must  have  over-tired  yourself,  my  dear;  you 
are  as  pale  as  a  sheet,"  he  remarked,  looking  at  her 
keenly.  "Here,  come  with  me."  He  led  the  way 
into  the  dining-room,  that  large,  cool,  pleasant  apart- 
ment in  which  Regina  had  so  often  sat  admiring  him, 
and,  going  to  the  sideboard,  poured  her  out  a  glass 
of  port. 

"Here,  drink  this  down  at  once.  I  am  sure  you 
have  been  overdoing  it.  Have  you  been  to  any  of 
those  beastly  meetings  V 

"I  have  not  been  to  a  meeting,  though  I  looked  in 
at  the  offices  of  the  S.R.AV." 

"I  feel  very  much  inclined  to  say  *Damn  the 
S.R.W.,"  said  Alfred  Whittaker,  warmly.     "I  can't 

11 


162  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

bear  to  see  you  looking  so  jaded  and  worn-out  as  you 
do  now.  Here,  drink  this  down;  it  will  pull  you  to- 
gether better  than  anything  else." 

He  was  an  old-fashioned  man,  who  believed  in  a 
glass  of  port,  and  Regina,  with  unwonted  meekness 
and  the  same  happy  feeling  of  being  ministered  to 
that  she  had  felt  in  the  pastry-cook's  shop,  obediently 
swallowed  the  pleasant  potion. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad,"  Alfred  Whittaker  con- 
tinued, ''when  we  are  off  on  our  holiday,  for  I  never 
felt  the  need  of  one  so  badly  as  I  do  this  year.  I 
suppose  it  is  the  excitement  of  Maudie's  wedding, 
but  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  looking  as  you  do  now." 

''I  am  better — I  feel  better,"  said  Regina,  ner- 
vously. It  was  hard  for  her  to  resist  the  inclination 
to  fling  herself  upon  Alfred's  broad  bosom  and  tell 
him  everything  that  was  in  her  mind.  It  would  have 
been  better  if  she  had  done  so,  but  she  resisted 
the  inclination  from  a  desire  not  to  give  way  to 
unusual  weakness. 

"Now  sit  down  quietly  by  the  window  and  rest 
while  I  run  up  and  change  my  coat. ' ' 

It  was  his  habit  to  make  what  might  be  called  a 
half -toilette  for  dinner — to  take  off  his  frock-coat  and 
substitute  for  it  a  sort  of  smoking-jacket,  quite  a 
glorified  garment,  in  which  Regina  admired  him  as 
some  women  admire  their  husbands  when  they  get 
drunk,  with  that  curious  admiration  for  the  breaking 
off  of  shackles,  even  merely  conventional  ones.  It 
was  a  delight  to  Regina,  strong-minded,  commanding, 
magnetic,  almost  eccentric  nature  that  she  was,  to 
give   her  husband's   behests   instant   obedience,    and 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  163 

she  sat  down  in  the  huge  armchair  by  the  window 
with  a  sigh  of  relief.  Well,  some  hussy  might  have 
got  hold  of  him,  yes — but  his  heart  was  with 
her. 

She  owned  to  herself  that  there  was  a  little  bit  of 
the  hypocrite  in  her,  but  she  forgave  herself  the 
infinitesimal  sin  because  Alfred  had  noticed  instantly 
that  she  was  paler  than  usual.  Ought  she  to  have 
told  him  that  she  had  been  using  powder,  and  that 
she  was  not  really  more  worn-out  than  usual? 
Perhaps  so,  and  yet,  she  told  herself,  no  woman  on 
earth  could  have  forced  herself  to  be  so  strictly  just. 
Then  there  was  a  sound  of  the  gong  in  the  hall,  and 
Alfred  came  down,  Julia  coming  with  him. 

''I'm  afraid,  my  bird,"  he  was  saying,  as  they 
crossed  the  threshold,  ''that  you  miss  Maudie  more 
every  day  that  goes  by,  and  soon  you'll  be  marrying 
yourself,  and  there'll  only  be  old  Darby  and  Joan  to 
jog  along  together. 

"I've  not  gone  yet,  daddy,"  said  Julia.  "Maudie 
had  what  we  may  call  adequate  temptation.  I  may 
go  on  for  years  before  I  meet  anybody  who  takes  my 
fancy  as  completely  as  Harry  took  hers." 

"Meantime,  I  think  you  ought  to  go  out  with  your 
mother  a  little  more.     She  looks  worn-out  to-day." 

"Do  you,  darling r'  looking  toward  the  large 
white  figure  at  the  window.  "I  declare  you  do. 
Why,  you  told  me  that  you  would  be  busy  all  day 
and  wouldn't  want  me." 

"Did  I?"  said  Regina.  "I  do  not  think  quite 
that,  dearest.     But  it  was  true,  I  did  not  want  you 


164  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

with  me  to-day ;  I  was  full  of  business  of  one  sort  or 
another. ' ' 

"Well,  well,  come  to  dinner,"  said  Alfred,  genially, 
"come  to  dinner.  We  needn't  live  to  eat,  but  we 
must  eat  to  live,  and  here  is  a  bit  of  salmon  that  would 
gladden  the  heart  of  a  king." 

He  was  very  full  of  joke  that  night,  telling  wife 
and  daughter  of  one  or  two  little  incidents  which  had 
happened  to  him  during  the  day,  and  making  merry 
exceedingly. 

"You're  very  mischievous  and  gay  to-night,"  said 
Julia.    ' '  What  have  you  been  doing  to-day  ? ' ' 

Regina  looked  across  the  table  involuntarily. 

"Oh,  I  have  been  doing  the  usual  thing,  my  dear — 
making  money  for  you  to  spend.  By  the  way,  1  have 
had  an  excellent  offer  for  the  house." 

"For  the  house!"  cried  Julia.  "Have  you  taken 
it?" 

"I've  not  taken  it;  I  shouldn't  think  of  doing  so 
until  I  have  consulted  your  mother.  It  is  a  good  offer, 
and  I  have  a  week  to  think  it  over  in.  The  question 
is.  Do  we  really  want  to  leave  the  Park  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Julia. 

* '  What  do  you  say,  Queenie  ? ' ' 

"  I  do  not  know. ' ' 

"But,  mother,  you  find  it  such  a  fag  and  such  a 
drag  getting  to  and  fro  to  your  committees. ' ' 

For  a  moment  Regina  did  not  speak;  she  put  her 
fish  knife  and  fork  down  upon  her  plate. 

"I  don't  know  that  we  need  consider  my  commit- 
tees," she  said  quietly.  "I  am  thinking  of  giving 
them  all  up." 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  165 

' '  Your  committees ! ' '  cried  Julia  in  a  tone  that  was 
almost  frightened. 

' '  My  dear — ! ' '  said  Alfred. 

' '  I  have  worked  for  others  during  the  last  ten  years, 
Alfred,"  said  Regina,  leaning  back  in  her  chair  and 
looking  at  her  husband,  "but  I  am  not  sure  if  I've 
done  quite  the  right  thing  in  giving  up  so  much  of  my 
time  to  outside  work." 

"My  dear,  I  have  never  complained." 

"No,  dear,  you  have  never  complained.  I  do  not 
know  that  you  might  not  have  done. 

"My  dear  girl,  what  does  it  matter  to  me  how  you 
amuse  yourself  while  I  am  at  business  ? ' ' 

"No,  there's  something  in  that.  On  the  other  hand, 
in  a  sense  it  does  matter.  I  have  worked  long 
enough ;  I  think  I  w^ant  to  be  a  little  more  in  my  own 
home — I  'm  not  so  young  as  I  was. 

"You're  worn-out,  that's  about  the  English  of  it," 
said  Alfred  Whittaker,  putting  his  knife  and  fork  on 
his  plate  and  sitting  back.  "As  long  as  it  amused 
you  it  was  all  right ;  it  was  as  good  as  spending  your 
life  in  running  from  one  hot,  stuffy  party  to  another. 
Cut  it,  my  dear,  cut  it.  There 's  one  axiom  in  business 
that  never  fails,  '  cut  your  loss ' — at  least,  I  have  never 
known  it  fail  yet.  By  the  bye,"  he  said,  "I  have 
brought  you  a  little  present." 

Regina  almost  screamed  aloud.  So  she  had  been 
wrong  all  the  time ;  there  was  no  hussy,  his  solicitude 
for  her  pale  looks  had  been  the  solicitude  of  the  old 
affectionate  Alfred  who  had  been  ever  and  always 
her  heau  ideal  of  what  a  husband  should  be.  She 
gasped  a  little.     "Yes,"  she  said  faintly. 


166  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

''Something  nice?"  said  Julia.     "Jewelry?" 

''Well/'  said  Alfred  Whittaker,  and  his  face  wore 
a  curious  little  smile,  "yes — it's  jewelry.  I  came  by 
it  in  an  odd  fashion.  I  had  some  business  up  west 
this  morning,  a  very  unexpected  bit  of  business;  it 
took  me  right  out  of  my  regular  track.  I  was  going 
along  a  little  street  at  the  back  of  Manchester  Square 
and  I  saw  something  in  a  little  shop  that  attracted 
my  attention.  It  was  a  quaint  little  shop,  half  jewel- 
er's and  half  curiosity  dealer's." 

"And  you  stopped  and  bought  it?" 

"Not  at  all;  I  stopped  and  looked  at  it.  It  was  a 
tea-service  of  that  scale  blue  Worcester  which  fetches 
such  tremendous  prices  at  Christie's,  only  I  don't 
think  that  particular  set  will  ever  have  a  show  at 
Christie's,  handsome  as  it  is,  and  while  I  was  looking 
at  it  I  noticed  this.  I  haven't  seen  such  a  thing  for 
ages,  and  I've  never  seen  anything  like  it  at  the  price 
before,  so  I  bought  it  and  paid  for  it,  and  here  it  is. ' ' 
He  took  a  little  parcel  from  his  pocket  wrapped  in 
tissue  paper,  and  pushed  it  along  the  table  to  Julia. 
"Give  that  to  your  mother.  No,  I  did  not  buy  any- 
thing for  you." 

"Then  you  did  not  go  to  Templeton's  for  it?"  said 
Regina,  as  her  fingers  closed  over  the  little  parcel. 

"Templeton's?  Oh,  no,  this  is  not  modern;  it  is  an 
antique.  The  people  haven't  the  faintest  idea  of  its 
value;  it  is  worth  ten  times  what  I  gave  for  it.  It 
happened  to  be  one  of  the  things  in  which  I  am  inter- 
ested and  which  I  understand.  No,  when  I  want 
jewels,  I  go  to  Templeton's.  I  don't  understand  gems 
and  I  can  trust  them. ' ' 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  167 

**And  their  discretion?"  said  Regina. 

''Yes,  if  it  were  necessary  I  would  trust  their  dis- 
cretion too.    Now,  what  do  you  think  of  that  1 ' ' 

Regina  opened  the  parcel  with  fingers  which  visibly 
trembled.  He  had  bought  her  a  present :  his  mind,  at 
the  moment  of  looking  into  that  little  shop,  half  jewel- 
er's, half  curiosity  shop,  on  seeing  something  in  which 
he  was  personally  interested,  had  instantly  flown  to 
her.  He  might  have  given  a  bracelet  to  a  hussy,  but 
his  interest  had  remained  with  Regina. 


168  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 


CHAPTER   XIX 

BROKEN-HEARTED    MIRANDA 

When  we  are  in  trouble  we  often  take  means  to  comfort  our- 
selves that  we  should  utterly  despise  in  others. 

Mrs.  Whittaker  in  no  way  faltered  in  herresolve 
to  win  back  Alfred  to  his  old  allegiance.  The  dinner 
was  excellent. 

*'A  very  good  bit  of  salmon,"  said  Alfred,  looking 
inquiringly  at  his  wife  as  he  held  the  fish  server  and 
fork  suggestively  toward  the  dish;  "you  will  have  a 
bit  more,  dearest  ? ' ' 

"A  little  bit  more,"  said  Regina. 

In  spite  of  the  blow  which  had  fallen  upon  her  she 
was  honestly  and  genuinel}^  hungry.  To  a  woman  who 
lives  well  and  eats  her  three  meals  a  day,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  very  good  tea  thrown  in,  the  loss  of  a 
meal  is  a  very  serious  matter.  Muffins,  though  consol- 
ing, are  not  possessed  of  much  staying  power,  and 
Regina  was,  in  spite  of  being  so  upset,  genuinely  fam- 
ished. 

"Cook  is  improving  in  her  sharp  sauce,"  Alfred 
went  on  cheerfully  as  he  helped  himself  a  second  time. 
' '  I  often  think, ' '  he  continued,  ' '  what  a  lucky  thing  it 
is  that  salmon  is  a  summer  fish,  it  is  such  a  refreshing 
dish  in  hot  weather. ' ' 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  169 

''Yes,  I  confess  I  like  a  bit  of  salmon  myself,"  said 
Regina,  rather  tamely. 

Julia  looked  up.  Something  in  her  mother's  tone 
struck  her  as  unusual.  "Don't  you  feel  well  to-day, 
mother?"  she  asked. 

Alfred  looked  up  sharply.  "Don't  you  feel  all 
right?" 

"Yes,  quite  all  right,"  she  replied;  "I  think  I 
want  to  get  away." 

"You're  over-doing  it,"  said  Alfred  in  genial  yet 
uneasy  tones.  "Why  don't  you  take  a  little  rest- 
not  a  holiday,  but  a  rest  from  your  outside  work? 
You  're  over-doing  it. ' ' 

"I  think  so  too,"  said  Regina.  "I  went  down  to 
the  offices  to-day  and  told  them  to  prepare  my  resig- 
nation as  President  of  the  S.R.W." 

"Mother!"  cried  Julia  in  sharp  staccato  accents. 

"Oh,  come,  come,  you  needn't  say  'mother'  in  that 
tone.  It  is  the  best  bit  of  news  I  have  heard  for  a  long 
time.  My  dear,  I  look  toward  you —  Stay,  we  '11  have 
a  glass  of  fizz  on  the  strength  of  it.  Margaret,  here, 
take  my  keys,  go  down  to  the  cellar,  look  in  bin 
marked  number  three  and  bring  up  a  bottle. ' ' 

"Large  or  small,  sir?" 

"Oh,  a  large  one." 

"If  you  did  not  like  it,  Alfred,  I  wish  you  had 
told  me  before,"  said  Regina,  as  the  door  closed  be- 
hind Margaret. 

"It  isn't  that  I  did  not  like  it,  or  that  I  grudged 
your  amusing  yourself  in  your  own  way,  or  making 
your  life  interests  in  your  own  way,  but  when  T  see 
you  looking  so  worn  and  harried,  so  pulled  down  and 


170  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

fagged  out — well,  I  naturally  begin  to  wonder  where 
it  is  going  to  end. ' ' 

"I'm  getting  older,"  said  Regina. 

''Nonsense,  nonsense,  fiddle-faddle!  we're  all  get- 
ting older,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  but  you  are  still  a 
young  woman  in  the  very  prime  of  life.  AVhen  you 
have  had  a  good  change  and  a  little  sea  air,  when  you 
give  yourself  a  little  more  ease  and  a  little  more  per- 
sonal indulgence,  you'll  look  ten  years  younger,  my 
dear  child,  ten  years  younger. ' ' 

Regina  only  replied  by  a  smile.  At  that  moment 
Margaret  came  back  carrying,  with  the  care  of  a 
thoroughly  well-trained  parlor-maid,  the  bottle  of 
champagne  in  which  they  were  to  drink,  as  Alfred 
put  it  five  minutes  later,  to  the  degeneration  of  Mrs. 
Whittaker. 

' '  They  '11  be  very  angry,  they  '11  never  replace  you, ' ' 
he  went  on,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  nursing  his 
stomach  in  the  manner  peculiar  to  elderly  gentlemen 
who  do  not  despise  their  dinner;  "I  think  they  ought 
to  give  you  a  diamond  star  to  show  their  appreciation 
of  the  star  you  have  been  to  them. ' ' 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Regina,  decidedly. 

"Don't  fuss  yourself,"  put  in  Julia,  whose  fears 
for  her  mother  were  somewhat  allayed;  "they  won't. 
I  notice  that  when  women  give  things  to  women  it  is 
generally  something  they've  got  cheap.  They'll  give 
you  an  illuminated  address,  no  doubt,  and  you  can 
frame  it  and  hang  it  in  the  hall." 

"Not  in  the  hall,"  said  Regina,  who  was  not  strong 
in  the  point  of  humor,  ' '  not  in  the  hall,  Julia 
darling. ' ' 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  171 

After  that  the  evening  passed  over  very  quietly. 
Julia  ran  over  to  the  house  of  Marksby  and  was  seen 
no  more  till  bed-time.  Alfred  sat  down  in  his  own 
special  easy-chair  in  the  cool,  pleasant  drawing-room, 
and,  over  a  pretence  of  reading  the  newest  art  journal, 
gently  dosed  off  into  slumber,  and  Regina,  in  her 
corresponding  chair  in  the  big  bow  window,  sat  and 
pretence  of  reading,  and  as  she  sat  thinking  things 
she  would  leave  nothing  to  chance.  As  for  fate,  she 
would  brave  it.  Like  her  husband,  she  was  making  a 
pretence  of  reading,  and  as  she  sat  thinking  things 
over  she  became  conscious  that  she  was  looking  at  the 
portrait  of  a  very  beautiful  woman,  exquisite  in  face, 
elegant  in  figure,  luxuriously  gowned.  The  journal 
she  was  holding  in  her  hand  was  one  devoted  to  femi- 
nine interests,  and  this  was  an  interview  with  a  lady 
very  highly  placed  in  Society.  Some  impulse  made 
Regina  turn  to  the  beginning  of  the  article  and  read 
it.  "Devoted  mother,  idolized  wife,  adored  chatelaine, 
the  lady  bountiful  of  her  village,  her  highest  aim  is 
gratified  in  being  her  husband's  countess."  There 
was  a  portrait  of  the  husband,  who,  in  Regina 's  eyes, 
was  not  to  be  named  in  the  same  twelvemonth  with 
the  noble  Alfred  sleeping  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room.  There  were  pictures  of  the  children,  of  her 
ladyship's  boudoir,  of  her  village  school  and  her 
cottage  hospital.  ''The  world  has  but  little  attrac- 
tion for  the  beautiful  subject  of  our  sketch, ' '  the  arti- 
cle ended;  ''she  is  seen  occasionally  at  Court  and  at 
great  functions,  as  a  part  of  her  duties,  but  that  is  all. 
Her  heart  is  in  her  beautiful  country  home  with  her 
husband  and  her  children,  and  there  she  shares  the 


172  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

joys  and  sorrows  of  all  who  are  brought  in  touch  with 
the  great  historic  name  which  she  bears. ' ' 

Kegina's  heart  was  stirred  by  new  and  conflicting 
emotions.     She   had,   all  her  life,   thought  much  of 
those  who  could  be  credited  with  working  for  eternity, 
whose  toil  was  to  benefit  the  whole  world,  to  whom 
the  personal  touch  had  but  small  value.     The  picture 
of  this  great  lady  with  her  indisputable  charms  of 
beauty  and  disposition,  came  to  her  with  an  alluring 
sense  of  restfulness;  here  was  one  who  wished  to  be 
far    removed    from    the   struggles    of    a    contentious 
world,    and   somehow   there   came    a   second    picture 
which  linked  itself  with  the  first  in  a  strange  sweet- 
ness, the  picture  of  an  anxious,  busy  housewife,  eager 
to  honor  the  great  guest,  and  through  the  summer 
night   there   seemed   to   float   to   Regina's   disturbed 
senses  that  simple,  soft  and  sweet  reproach,  that  was 
only  a  little  bit  of  a  reproach,  "she  hath  chosen  the 
better  part  and  it  shall  not  be  taken  away."    Yes,  she 
was  glad  that  she  had  laid  the  train  for  the  resigna- 
tion of  her  presidential  office,  she  was  glad  that  she 
was  going  to  be  all  in  all  to  her  husband  and  children 
— well,  husband  and  child.    Perhaps  before  long  Julia 
would  take  wings  and  fly  away  from  the  old  nest  as 
her  sister  had  done  before  her.     But  Alfred  would 
remain,    and   she    determined   in   that   soft   summer 
evening  hour  that  for  Alfred's  sake  she  would  choose 
the  better  part,  and  her  title  to  honor  should  be  within 
rather  than  without  doors.     Having  arrived  at  this 
point  in  her  thoughts,  she  began  idly  turning  over 
the  leaves  of  the  journal  in  her  hand.     It  contained 
nothing  of  particular  interest  to  Regina;  there  were 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  173 

accounts  of  entertainments  given  by  people  to  whom 
she  was  unknown ;  there  was  a  page  devoted  to  fash- 
ionable weddings,  including  a  portrait  of  her  own 
girl  and  of  Harry  Marksby,  and  a  glowing  account  of 
the  wedding  just  gone  by;  and  then  she  came  to  a 
column  of  answers  to  correspondents  which  appeared 
under  the  heading  of  ''Feminine  Wants."  Regina's 
heart  gave  a  sick  thrill  as  she  saw  the  two  words, 
"Feminine  Wants."  The  woes  of  womanhood  seemed 
to  crowd  in  upon  her  in  an  overwhelming  wave  of 
sorrow  and  desolation.  Doubtless  other  women  had 
suffered  more  than  she  had  done.  The  first  answer 
ran,  "Humming  Bird.  I  am  so  sorry  for  you,  poor 
little  thing,  bravely  struggling  along  in  your  little 
flat  without  a  servant  to  do  the  rough  work.  Keep 
a  brave  heart,  little  wife,  and  always  make  a  toilette 
for  dinner.  I  know  this  may  sound  ridiculous,  and  I 
do  not  mean  you  to  put  on  a  low-necked  dress,  or 
commit  any  folly  of  that  kind,  but  when  you  have 
set  your  dinner  in  train,  go  and  dress  yourself. 
Change  your  day  dress  for  a  silk  blouse,  do  your  hair 
smartly  and  neatly,  have  a  smile  ready  for  'him' 
when  he  comes  home,  for  he  is  just  as  tired  and  ready 
for  refreshment  as  you  are.  You  will  enjoy  your 
dinner  twice  as  well  if  you  have  a  little  change  in 
your  gear,  and  you  can  easily  put  the  dinner  things 
on  one  side  to  be  washed  up  in  the  morning.  Be 
sure,  after  doing  any  dirty  work,  to  wash  your  hands 
thoroughly  with  a  spoonful  of  Lux  in  the  water,  then 
rub  in  a  mixture  of  equal  parts  of  glycerine  and  lemon 
juice.     This  will  keep  your  hands  soft  and  white. 


174  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

Write  to  me  again  if  there  is  any  way  in  which  I  can 
help  you." 

Regina  drew  a  long  breath.  It  was  hard  on  the 
little  soul  to  have  no  servant,  but,  after  all,  they  were 
boy  and  girl  together;  no  hussy  had  crept  in  to  dis- 
pute her  kingdom.  At  that  moment  Regina  would 
cheerfully  have  consented  to  wash  dishes  and  clean 
doorsteps  for  the  price  of  Alfred's  undivided 
affection. 

''Sad  Maudie,"  was  the  next  reply.  ''Yes,  you  are, 
indeed  a  sad  Maudie,  and  I  am  truly  sorry  for  you, 
for  I  well  know  the  trouble  that  acne  gives.''  "Acne 
— that's  something  to  do  with  the  skin,"  said  Regina 
to  herself.  ' '  Send  me  a  stamped  and  addressed  envel- 
ope, and  I  will  send  you  a  prescription  which  will  do 
wonders  for  this  troublesome  complaint.  I  would  in- 
sert it  here,  but  my  editor  does  not  like  me  to  deal 
with  medical  matters  in  this  column." 

"Cheerful  Sally.  It  is  not  etiquette  to  introduce 
callers  when  they  meet  in  your  drawing-room.  Life 
would  become  utterly  impossible  if  one  were  liable  to 
meet  one's  next-door  neighbor,  whom  one  had  taken 
infinite  pains  to  avoid,  when  merely  paying  a  call. 
I  should  be  very  strict  on  this  point  if  I  were  you, 
particularly  as  you  are  a  newcomer  in  your  neigh- 
borhood." 

Regina  gave  a  sniff  of  disgust  and  passed  on. 

"Delia  W.  My  dear  Delia,  you  can't  be  old  and 
faded  at  your  age,  but  you  have  let  anxiety  and  worry 
get  the  better  of  you,  and  you  should  remedy  these  ill- 
effects  at  once.  Go  to  Mrs.  Vansittant,  the  famous 
beauty  specialist,  and  put  yourself  unreservedly  in 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  175 

her  hands.  It  will  cost  you  a  few  guineas,  but  to  win 
your  heart 's  love,  what  is  that  1 ' ' 

A  sudden  resolution  seized  hold  of  Regina.  She 
would  write  to  the  editress  of  "Feminine  Wants." 
She  got  up  softly  and  went  to  her  writing-table. 

"Dear  Editress,"  she  wrote,  "I  am  a  woman  of 
middle  age.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  my  husband 
has  swerved  from  his  allegiance  to  me.  Tell  me,  what 
can  I  do  to  win  him  back?  I  am  too  stout,  I  have 
never  taken  care  of  my  skin,  I  have  let  my  hair  take 
care  of  itself,  I  do  not  think  I  have  good  taste  in  dress. 
Pray  advise  your  broken-hearted  Miranda." 


176  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 


CHAPTER   XX 


FAMILY    CRITICISM 


Sometimes  it  is  a  good  thing  to  be  aroused  out  of  sleep,  espe- 
cially if  the  sleep  has  been  a  fool's  paradise. 

Mrs.  Whittaker  crept  softly  out  of  the  room,  and 
went  as  softly  out  of  the  house.  There  was  a  pillar- 
box  a  little  way  along  the  road,  and  it  was  not  an  in- 
frequent habit  with  her  to  carry  her  own  letters  to 
the  post  without  troubling  to  make  any  sort  of  out- 
door toilette.  So  on  that  soft  summer  night  she 
gathered  up  her  voluminous  skirts,  and  with  the 
letter  in  her  hand  went  down  the  covered  way  to  the 
gate  and  walked  as  far  as  the  pillar-box. 

"My  dear,"  said  a  neighbor,  who  had  been  to  the 
club  and  was  on  his  way  home,  as  he  entered  the 
room  where  his  wife  was  sitting,  ''I  met  Mrs. 
Whittaker  just  now.  I  never  saw  anything  so 
remarkable. ' ' 

' '  Really !  She 's  always  rather  remarkable  in  her 
dress,  but  howT' 

"I  don't  know,  but  it  was  white;  it  looked  like  a 
voluminous  exaggerated  nightgown." 

''Mrs.  Whittaker  in  a  nightgown,  Charley?  She 
must  have  been  out  of  her  mind,  or  was  she  walking 
in  her  sleep,  do  you  think?" 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  177 

**0h,  no,  I  don't  think  she  was;  she  was  evidently 
going  to  the  post-box,  but  her  gown —  Ton  my 
word,  she  looked  like  a  dressed-up  figure  in  a 
carnival/' 

'*0h,  she  is  quite  mad,''  said  the  little  wife;  *Hhey 
say  she's  very  nice,  but  quite  mad." 

Meanwhile,  Regina,  all  unconscious  of  the  stric- 
tures which  had  been  passed  upon  her  appearance, 
had  gone  back  into  Ye  Dene,  and  lingered  in  the 
covered  way  adjusting  a  plant  here  and  a  leaf  there, 
as  if  she  had  no  higher  object  in  life  than  the  arrange- 
ment of  her  house.  It  happened  that  Alfred  woke 
up  as  his  wife  gently  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

**I  thought  Queenie  was  here.  Dear  me,  it  is  quite 
chilly — ^what  a  fool  I  was  to  go  to  sleep  here !  I 
suppose  it's  a  sign  of  old  age." 

Then  he  stretched  out  one  arm  and  then  the  other 
one. 

**I  suppose  I  ought  to  write  that  letter  to 
Jenkinson,"  was  his  next  thought.  So  he  heaved 
himself  up  out  of  his  comfortable  chair,  picked  up 
the  art  magazine,  and  sought  his  own  little  sanctum, 
which  was  behind  the  dining-room.  There  he  wrote 
a  letter  of  three  lines  making  an  appointment  for 
the  next  morning,  and  then  he  too  set  off  for  the 
pillar-box. 

"Hullo!  Queenie,  are  you  here?"  he  exclaimed, 
as  he  saw  the  tall  figure  in  the  voluminous  white 
draperies.    ''Walk  up  as  far  as  the  post  with  me." 

' '  Oh,  are  you  going  to  the  post  ? "  she  said.    ' '  I  have 
just  been.    Yes,  I  will  come  with  you,  certainly." 
12 


178  THE   LITTLE    VANITIES    OP 

He  opened  the  gate  to  let  her  pass  out  in  front  of 
him. 

''You  won't  take  cold?''  he  said  anxiously. 

' '  Oh,  no,  not  a  night  like  this. ' ' 

' '  I  don 't  know, ' '  he  remarked,  as  they  sauntered  up 
the  pathway  together,  "that  there  is  much  protection 
in  a  frock  like  this." 

"It's  not  a  frock,  dear,  it's  a  tea-gown." 

"Oh,  is  it?" 

"What  the  French  call  saute  de  lit.'' 

"It's  flimsy.  I  don't  know  that  I  altogether  like 
it,"  said  Alfred,  slipping  his  hand  under  her  arm. 

"It  has  the  advantage  of  being  cool,"  said  Regina. 

"Yes,  I  daresay  it  is  cool,  but  this  kind  of  gown 
makes  you  look — "  He  wobbled  his  hand  about  to 
express  something  that  was  not  very  clear  to  either 
of  them. 

' '  I  know,  it  makes  me  look  too  fat, ' '  said  Regina  in 
quite  a  crushed  tone.     "I  am  too  fat." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — you're  just  comfortable." 

"No,  Alfred,  I'm  too  fat,"  Regina  reiterated  with 
an  air  of  firm  conviction. 

"Well,  as  to  that,"  said  Alfred,  slipping  the  letter 
into  the  letter-box,  and  wheeling  round,  still  keeping 
hold  of  his  wife's  arm,  "I  never  did  admire  the  'two- 
deal-board'  style  of  woman  myself." 

Regina  immediately  decided  in  her  own  mind  that 
the  hussy  was  of  the  plump  little  partridge  order. 

"Wlien  I  take  hold  of  a  lady's  arm,"  continued 
Alfred,  with  the  facetious  air  of  a  heavy  father,  "I 
like  an  arm  that  I  can  feel ;  I  object  to  taking  hold  of 
a  bone.    No,  no,  my  dear,  you  are  not  at  all  too  fat, 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  179 

but  I  don^t  think  you  ought  to  wear  gowns,  except 
purely  for  reasons  of  comfort,  that  tend  to  increase 
your  apparent  size." 

''But  you  don't  think  it  matters  much?" 

''I'm  sure  it  does  not  matter  very  much." 

"Alfred,  do  you  think  that  I  am  greatly  altered?" 
She  asked  the  question  wistfully,  as  if  the  issue  of 
life  and  death  hung  upon  his  reply. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  Alfred  Whittaker, 
promptly,  "I  think  you  are  the  least  altered  of  any 
woman  I  ever  knew  in  my  life.  I  see  other  women 
going  to  pieces  in  the  most  extraordinary  manner. 
Now,  Mrs.  Chamberlain  came  into  the  office  this 
morning.  My  goodness,  what  a  wreck!  Yellow  as 
a  guinea,  her  face  lined  all  over — she  made  me  think 
of  a  mummy. ' ' 

"Yet  she  is  younger  than  I  am,"  said  Regina. 

"Oh,  years — they  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
case.  You  have  been  a  happy  woman,  a  prosperous 
woman,  a  healthy  woman ;  there  has  been  nothing  in 
your  life  to  seam  your  face  with  lines  and  generally 
stamp  you  with  all  the  worry  that  is  too  plainly 
visible  on  poor  Mrs.  Chamberlain's  features.  Well, 
here  we  are,  and  here  is  Julia  skipping  across  the 
road." 

As  the  words  left  his  lips  a  slim  young  figure  in 
white  emerged  from  the  rustic  gate  that  gave 
entrance  and  egress  to  the  house  of  Marksby. 
They  stood  until  Julia  came  running  across  the 
road. 

"Have  you  two  dear  things  been  out  for  an  air- 
ing?" she  exclaimed  as  she  reached  the  foot-path. 


180  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

*'No,  only  to  the  post-box,"  said  Eegina. 

*' Mother  dear,"  said  Julia,  ''you  look  exactly  as  if 
you  were  walking  about  in  your  nightgown — a  very 
voluminous  and  sublimated  nightgown,  but  a  night- 
gown all  the  same." 

For  a  moment  Regina  was  too  dashed  to  spea]:. 
The  thought  came  fluttering  through  her  mind,  and 
seemed  to  fall  to  the  floor  of  her  heart  with  a  great 
crash,  that  surely  it  was  hopeless  for  her  ever  to  try 
to  win  back  Alfred  from  the  hussy  by  personal 
means.  Evidently  she  was  hopelessly  out  of  it  as 
regards  all  questions  of  dress  and  the  toilette. 

' '  Of  course, ' '  she  hastened  to  reply,  for  she  did  not 
wish  Julia  to  think  that  she  was  annoyed  by  her 
criticism,  "it  really  is  a  bedroom  garment.  I  put  it 
on  because  I  was  so  hot  to-day,  and  in  this  little 
country  sort  of  place  I  thought  going  to  the  post  in 
it  would  not  matter,  and — we — we  did  not  meet 
anyone,  did  we,  Alfred?" 

"It  would  not  have  mattered  if  you  had,"  said 
Julia;  "what  you  wear  is  a  matter  for  your  own  con- 
sideration.   But  it  does  look  like  a  nightgown." 

"And  your  mother,"  said  Alfred,  "looks  better  in 
a  sort  of  glorified  nightgown  than  most  women  do  in 
their  best  frocks.  And  now  don't  you  think  we  had 
better  go  off  to  bed  ?  You  will  have  the  least  as  ever 
was,  dear?" 

Regina's  face  broke  into  a  smile.  "The  least  as 
ever  was,"  she  replied.  So  the  two  went  into  the 
dining-room,  where,  as  usual,  the  refreshment  tray 
was  set  out  upon  the  table.     Julia,  with  a  laughing 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  181 

declaration  that  she  did  not  want  even  the  least  as 
ever  was,  went  gayly  upstairs  to  her  bedroom. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  get  away,"  said  Alfred, 
sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  oaken  dining-table  and 
holding  his  whisky-and-soda  up  to  the  light.  "I 
want  a  change  badly  this  year.  AYe  are  not  as  young 
as  we  were,  Queenie;  I've  taken  a  lot  out  of  myself 
lately." 

"You've  been  so  busy." 
Yes,  we  've  never  had  such  a  good  year  in  business 
as  the  last  one,   but  there's  something  wrong   with 
Chamberlain." 

''How  wrong?" 

"I  don't  know,  I  can't  make  it  out.  AYhether 
there's  a  screw  loose  at  home,  or  whether  his  wife's 
health  is  worrying  him,  I  don't  know." 

"Does  she  own  to  being  ilH" 

"No,  never.  This  morning  I  quite  offended  her  by 
telling  her  that  she  did  not  look  very  well." 

"And  they  are  not  going  away  till  September?" 

"No,  she  has  just  come  back." 

"She  has  been  to  the  sea?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  she  came  up  specially  for  ]\Iaudie's 
wedding  ? ' ' 

"I  suppose  so.  I  did  not  know  she  had  been  away 
till  Chamberlain  told  me  this  morning.  He  seems 
dull  and  gloomy — ah,  there's  a  screw  loose  there,  but 
I  don't  know  just  vrhere  it  is.  Anyway,  I  know  I 
vrant  my  holiday  very  badly  this  year  and  glad  I 
shall  be  when  we  have  packed  up  and  are  off  for  La 
Belle  France." 


182  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 


C  i 


And  I,"  said  Regina,  with  a  sigh  which,  though 
quickly  suppressed,  was  full  of  meaning.  Somehow, 
she  could  not  sleep  that  night;  during  the  day  some 
of  her  most  cherished  ideals  had  been  ruthlessly  torn 
up  by  the  roots.  Never  in  all  her  life  before  had  she 
had  even  so  much  as  a  suspicion  of  her  noble  Alfred's 
matrimonial  integrity,  and  she  had  come  to  see  flaws 
in  her  own  life  and  rents  in  her  own  robes.  Indeed, 
had  she  not  been,  as  it  were,  aroused  out  of  sleep,  the 
regeneration  of  women  had  been  like  to  cost  her  very 
dear.  But,  God  be  thanked !  she  had  been  awakened 
in  time,  and  in  future  she  would  leave  the  great 
question  of  womanhood  to  look  after  itself,  and  she 
would  devote  her  time  and  thought  and  the  use  of 
her  astute  brain  to  regaining  her  husband's  love. 
"Think,"  her  thoughts  ran,  "think — Maudie  is  mar- 
ried, Julia  is  young  and  beautiful,  and  fascinating 
to  the  opposite  sex,  you  cannot  hope  to  keep  her  long 
in  the  home  nest;  think  what  your  life  would  be 
living  alone  with  a  husband  whose  heart  was  wholly 
gone  from  you." 


IVmS.   WHITTAKER  183 


CHAPTER   XXI 

DEAR  DIEPPE 

There  is  occasionally  a  time  in  our  life  which  proves  a  veritable 
oasis  in  a  desert  of  doubt  and  suspicion. 

During  the  month  which  they  spent  in  the  fascinat- 
ing little  town  on  the  northern  coast,  Regina  lived  a 
very  dolce  far  niente  kind  of  life.  Her  anxieties  as 
to  the  hussy  were,  for  a  time,  lulled  to  sleep.  They 
stayed  at  a  comfortable  hotel  on  the  front,  had  rooms 
overlooking  that  wonderful  stretch  of  sea  which  is 
one  of  the  great  charms  of  Dieppe,  and  they  did 
themselves  remarkably  well ;  that  is  to  say,  they  went 
without  nothing  that  would  give  them  pleasure.  As 
soon  as  they  arrived  and  were  settled  down,  Alfred 
Whittaker  went  to  the  extravagance  of  engaging  a 
motor  car  for  their  exclusive  use  during  their  stay. 
It  was  a  very  comfortable  car.  and  held  six  persons 
in  addition  to  the  chauffeur,  and  almost  every  day 
they  made  excursions  into  the  green  heart  of  the 
quiet  country,  lunching  at  some  snug  French  hostelry 
on  homely  but  delicious  fare.  Personally,  I  have 
always  thought  that  one  of  the  chief  reasons  why  art 
and  sentiment  flourish  and  thrive  apace  in  sunny 
France  is  because  the  people  live  upon  food  so  much 


184  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

less  gross  than  is  the  case  with  ourselves.     In  the 
poorest  little  inn  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel  one 
is    always    sure    of    an   excellent    soup,    a    delicious 
omelette,  bread  and  butter  that  are  beyond  reproach, 
and  a  sound  and  excellent  drink,  be  it  of  red  wine  or 
only  of  homely  cider.     To  Regina,  the  freedom  from 
household  cares,  which  she   detested,   and  from  all 
questions  of  orderings  and  caterings,  made  this  quite 
the  most  charming  holiday  of  her  whole  life.     She 
was  happy,  too,  that  Julia  was  happy,  that  Julia  made 
many  friends  of  her  own  age  and  condition,  that  she, 
as  the  phrase  goes,  danced  her  feet  off  four  nights  a 
week,  and  was  able  to  enter  with  zest  and  enjoyment 
into  the  young  life  of  the  place.    As  for  Alfred  Whit- 
taker  himself,  he  so  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  rest  and 
change,  seemed  so  happy  and  contented  with  himself 
and  everything  around  him,  that  sometimes  Regina 
caught  herself  wondering  if  she  had  been  entirely  mis- 
taken in  imagining  that  there  was,  after  all,  a  hussy  in 
the  background.     He  was  loud  in  his  expressions  of 
satisfaction  in  the  new  ground  which  they  had  broken. 
How  they  ever  came  to  go  year  after  year  to  a  dull 
English  watering-place,  and  never  thought  of  coming 
abroad,  was  really  beyond  him. 

"But  we  have  been  abroad,"  said  Regina. 

"Yes,  for  a  trip,  for  a  fortnight  in  Paris,  for  tours 
in  different  parts  of  Europe;  there's  no  rest  in  that 
kind  of  thing,  it  is  an  excitement,  an  opening  of  one's 
mind— quite  different  to  this,"  he  rejoined.  "It's 
very  improving  to  one's  mind  to  go  up  the  Rhine  in 
a  steamer,  and  go  round  all  the  sights  of  Cologne ;  to 
gaze  at  Ehrenbreitstein,  and  wonder  whether  it  really 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  185 

is  like  Gibraltar  or  not;  to  feed  the  carp  at  Frank- 
fort; to  gaze  at  the  falls  at  Schaff hausen ;  but  it  is 
not  restful,  it  is  not  really  a  holiday.  It  is  a  nice 
fillip  for  a  placid,  blank  or  uneventful  life,  but  for  a 
man  overdone  with  the  stress  of  business,  give  me  this. 
Restful  without  being  dull,  interesting  without  being 
overwhelming,  and  bright  and  gay  without  being  fag- 
ging." 

"You  are  always  so  sensible,"  said  Regina.  She 
felt  at  that  moment  that  the  hussy  was  farther  away 
than  ever.  Yet,  a  little  later,  when  she  and  Alfred 
were  taking  a  stroll  do^^^l  the  Grande  Rue,  it  being 
market  morning,  and  therefore  unusually  interesting, 
she  was  reminded  of  the  skeleton  in  her  cupboard  as 
sharply  and  unexpectedly  as  the  jerk  with  which  the 
proverbial  bird,  tied  by  a  string  to  the  leg,  is  stopped 
in  its  peregrinations.  As  a  rule  on  market  morning 
the  world  promenades  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  in 
the  actual  roadway,  but  it  happened  on  this  occasion 
that  Alfred  and  Regina  met  a  carriage  and  pair  com- 
ing slowly  between  the  market  people  squalling  on  the 
edge  of  the  pavement.  To  avoid  the  carriage  they 
stepped  on  to  the  trottoir,  and  this  brought  them  un- 
der the  awning  of  a  jeweler's  shop. 

"I  think  I  ought  to  buy  you  a  present,"  said 
Alfred,  ''for  I  won  last  nidit." 
' '  Did  you  ?  You  never  told  me. ' ' 
"I  didn't  think  of  it.  I  was  so  sleepy  I  was  glad 
to  tumble  into  bed  and  forget  everything,"  Alfred 
replied.  "I  only  had  five  louis  in  my  pocket  when  I 
went  into  the  Casino,  and  this  morning  I  find  that  I 
have  twenty-five.  Now,  twenty  louis  is  sixteen  pounds. 


T36  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

If  I  keep  it  I  shall  lose  it  all  back  to  the  tables  again, 
whether  it  is  at  the  fascinating  little  horses  or  the 
more  fascinating  green  cloth  in  the  Grand  Cercle. 
Come,  what  would  you  like?  Here's  a  jeweler's  shop ; 
there  are  sixteen  good  English  pounds  lying  at  your 
feet,  make  your  choice." 

''In  francs?"  asked  Regina. 

"In  francs — well,  in  francs  it's  four  hundred. 
Now,  there's  a  ring,  I  call  that  a  very  good  bargain 
for  four  hundred  francs — ^there's  something  for  your 
money,  there's  body  in  it. "  He  pointed  to  a  large  and 
deep-colored  sapphire  set  in  a  circle  of  diamonds. 
Regina  saw  that  the  ring  was  beautiful,  but,  woman- 
like, her  eyes  wandered  to  the  other  gewgaws  dis- 
played in  the  window. 

' '  I  have  a  good  many  rings, ' '  she  said  hesitatingly. 
Then  her  eyes  fell  upon  a  thick  gold  curb  bracelet 
clasped  by  a  horse-shoe  of  diamonds. 

' '  This  is  handsome, ' '  she  said.  Her  voice  was  quite 
faint,  for  she  felt  that  she  was  approaching  that  sub- 
ject which  had  troubled  her  so  much. 

''Oh,  horrid!"  said  he.  "I  love  to  see  you  with 
plenty  of  rings,  but  as  to  bracelets — I  can't  endure 
them." 

"Never?"  said  Regina.     "Never?" 

"No,  I  never  buy  a  bracelet  for  anybody.  I  like 
to  give  you  something  that  you  can  wear  for  weeks 
or  years  together.  Bracelets  always  seem  in  the  way, 
they  don 't  set  off  a  pretty  wrist,  and  they  draw  atten- 
tion to  an  ugly  one.  Besides,  they  are  intensely  dis- 
agreeable if  you  happen  to  put  your  arm  around  my 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  187 

neck.  Come,  let  is  go  inside  and  see  how  the  sapphire 
suits  your  hand." 

He  led  the  way  into  the  shop,  as  a  man  always  does 
when  he  is  going  to  buy  something  for  a  woman. 
Have  you  ever  noticed,  my  reader,  how  the  most  polite 
of  men,  who  stands  aside  on  all  occasions  for  the  lady 
to  precede  him,  marches  into  a  shop  right  in  front  of 
her  when  he  is  going  to  make  her  a  present? 

Now,  Alfred  Whittaker's  knowledge  of  French  was 
what  may  be  described  as  infinitesimal,  and  it  being 
his  habit  to  state  his  business  whenever  he  entered  a 
shop  of  any  kind,  he  did  not  wait  for  Regina  's  faulty 
but  more  understandable  explanations. 

'^Vous-avez  un  ring  la,"  pointing  with  a  sturdy 
British  thumb  toward  the  window,  ^^sappheer.'^ 

'^Ah,  ah,  une  hroche,  monsieur f" 

''Regina,  what  does  she  mean  by  that?" 

Now,  for  the  life  of  her  Regina  could  not  think  of 
the  French  word  for  ring. 

''She  means  'brooch'  of  course,"  she  replied.  "I 
really  don't  know  what  ring  is  in  French." 

''Pas  une  hroche?"  the  lady  of  the  establishment 
demanded. 

"No,  not  a  brooch,"  Alfred  Whittaker  shouted  at 
her,  as  if  her  understanding  lay  at  the  back  of  deaf 
ears. 

''Un  hracelet,  peut-etref"  the  Frenchwoman  asked, 
touching  her  wrist  with  a  gesture  that  conveyed  more 
than  her  words. 

"No,  no,"  said  Alfred,  tapping  his  first  finger. 

"A7i,  ah,  une  hague."  She  quickly  opened  the  win- 
dow and  brought  out  several  sapphire  rings,  includ- 


188  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

ing  the  one  which  had  taken  Alfred 's  fancy,  and  then, 
as  he  had  already,  being  a  business  man,  grasped  the 
initial  weakness  of  the  Norman  character,  there  began 
a  period  of  haggling  which  Alfred  Whittaker  would 
never  have  thought  of  employing  in  the  case  of  the 
establishment  of  Templeton.  Eventually  Regina  left 
the  shop  with  the  beautiful  sapphire  ring  upon  her 
finger. 

"My  dear  girl,"  said  Alfred  (he  always  called  her 
his  dear  girl  when  he  was  best  pleased),  "eighteen 
pounds  for  a  ring  like  that  is  dirt  cheap.  She  said 
it  was  an  occasion,  what  did  she  mean  by  *an  occa- 
sion'?" 

'  *  I  haven 't  the  least  idea,  but  she  certainly  said  it. ' ' 

"However,  no  matter  what  she  may  have  meant, 
the  ring  is  given  away  at  the  price — it's  worth  thirty 
pounds  if  it's  worth  a  penny.  You  found  it,  so  to 
speak,  for  I  won  the  money  that  paid  for  it." 

"Not  quite  all." 

"No,  not  quite  all,  but  the  other  was  a  mere  baga- 
telle. I  like  to  see  you  with  plenty  of  rings;  some 
women  have  not  the  hands  to  show  them  off. ' ' 

It  occurred  to  Regina  that  the  hussy's  hands  were 
of  the  kind  that  look  best  in  gloves.  Then  a  second 
thought  came,  one  of  blame  and  reproach  to  herself 
for  even  thinking  of  the  hussy  at  such  a  moment  when 
Alfred  had  generously  been  thinking  only  of  her. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  ring,  dear  Alfred, ' '  she  said,  put- 
ting her  hand  under  his  arm  and  squeezing  it  very 
gratefully,  "it  is  a  beautiful  ring  and  you  are  very 
good  to  me,  and  I'm  not  quite  sure  that  I  deserve  it." 

She  meant  what  she  said.    A  curious  idea  had  taken 


MRS.    ^VHITTAKER  189 

possession  of  her  that  while  Alfred  was  so  kind  and 
generous  to  her  she  ought  not  to  inquire  or  wish  to 
inquire  into  his  outer  life;  there  might  be  fifty  ex- 
planations, and  while  she  was  evidently  first  with  him 
it  vras  her  duty  to  remain  content.  It  was  wonderful 
how  that  little  present,  which,  after  all,  had  not  cost 
Alfred  AVhittaker  very  much,  soothed  Regina's  sus- 
picions and  lulled  them  to  sleep.  And  so,  in  perfect 
happiness  and  harmony,  that  month  went  by,  and  it 
was  w^ith  genuine  regret  that  they  bade  adieu  to  the 
town  of  many  colors  and  turned  their  faces  toward 
the  duller  tones  of  home. 

"We  will  come  back  again  next  year,"  said  Regina, 
gazing  sentimentally  at  the  fast-receding  shore,  now 
looking  most  uninteresting.  "Dear  Dieppe,  we  have 
been  so  happy  and  had  such  a  good  time,  we  will  come 
again  next  year." 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised,"  said  Alfred  AYhittaker, 
in  a  tone  of  ludicrous  jocosity,  "I  shouldn't  be  sur- 
prised, for  my  part,  if  Darby  and  Joan  found  them- 
selves at  Dieppe  by  themselves.  Just  you  and  I,  you 
know,  Queenie. " 

' '  Wherever  you  are,  Alfred, ' '  said  she,  leaning  over 
the  side  of  the  ship  and  keeping  her  eyes  carefully 
from  observing  the  motion  of  the  water,  "wherever 
you  are  I  am  always  perfectly  happy  and  content." 


10  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OP 


CHAPTER    XXII 

REGINA  ON  THE  WARPATH 

There  is  much  more  value  in  the  many  "  cures  "  that  we  take 
nowadays  than  is  at  first  apparent  to  the  eye.  One  cannot 
take  a  cure  for  the  renovation  of  any  part  of  one's  body 
without,  at  the  same  time,  renovating  part  of  one's  mind. 

The  immediate  effect  of  going  home  again  was  to 
make  Regina  more  convinced  than  ever  that  the  hussy 
had  a  very  real  and  tangible  existence.  On  the  very 
first  day  Alfred  made  haste  to  catch  the  earlier  of  the 
two  trains  by  which  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  trav- 
eling to  town.  There  was  nothing  in  that  circum- 
stance— oh  no.  He  had  been  away  for  a  full  month, 
and  Regina 's  opinion  of  her  husband's  partner  was 
but  small.  He  had  brought  the  bulk  of  the  money  into 
the  firm,  while  Alfred  had  supplied  the  major  part  of 
the  brains,  and  had,  in  fact,  built  up  the  business  to 
its  present  flourishing  state;  so,  of  course,  there  was 
nothing  in  the  actual  circumstance  that  Alfred  should 
hurry  through  his  breakfast  so  as  to  catch  the  earlier 
train.  He  fussed  and  fumed  a  little,  too,  and  let  fall 
a  word  to  the  effect  that  he  knew  he  should  find  every- 
thing at  sixes  and  sevens,  and  that  he  wanted  to  have 
one  or  two  things  settled  before  the  Chamberlains 
went  away  for  their  autumn  holiday.  Regina  too,  on 
her  side,  was  naturally  extremely  busy  that  morning. 
She  had  to  look  after  her  housekeeping,  to  lay  in  sup- 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  191 

plies,  to  hold  consultations  with  each  of  her  servants, 
and  to  look  out  a  couple  q£.  dresses  of  slightly  more 
solid  material  than  those  which  she  had  worn  at 
Dieppe — not  that  she  needed  them  for  warmth,  for 
the  weather  was,  as  the  weather  so  frequently  is  in 
September,  mild  even  to  sultriness.  The  sun  and  the 
sea  air  had  made  the  gowns  which  Regina  had  taken 
to  Dieppe  appear  to  her  worn  and  shabby,  and  she 
therefore  would  have  to  fall  back  upon  a  couple  of 
spring  gowns  until  she  could  get  her  new  autumn 
clothes,  the  clothes  with  which  she  was  to  win  back 
Alfred.  Now,  the  hussy  had  been  for  some  time  far 
from  Regina 's  thoughts,  her  suspicions  had  been 
lulled  to  rest,  not  only  by  Alfred's  devotion,  but  by 
his  naturalness  of  demeanor.  In  a  sort  of  gush  of 
tenderness  toward  him  she  almost  determined  that 
she  would  do  nothing  to  regain  his  allegiance;  she 
would  only  be  herself.  Then  her  tidy  eye  fell  upon  a 
piece  of  paper  lying  on  the  carpet  between  Alfred's 
chair  and  the  door.  She  went  across  the  room  and 
picked  it  up,  following  the  house-wifely  instinct  which 
moves  nine  women  out  of  ten,  and  glanced  at  it  to 
see  whether  it  was  something  to  keep  or  something  to 
throw  away.  It  was  only  a  folded  sheet  of  paper  on 
which  was  written  in  a  woman's  handwriting,  27 
Terrisina  Road,  St.  John's  Wood,  N.  W.  For  a 
moment  Regina  was  almost  too  stunned  to  speak ;  she 
stared  at  the  paper.  Luckily,  Julia  had  already  gone 
down  to  that  part  of  the  Park  called  the  town  to  get 
some  flowers  with  which  to  deck  the  house.  All  the 
doubts  and  suspicions  of  the  past  came  back  in  great 
waves,  and  broke  cruelly  upon  Regina 's  palpitating 


192  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

heart.  There  was  a  hiissy!  This  had  been  written 
by  the  hussy !  This  was  where  the  hussy  dwelt,  27 
Terrisina  Road,  St.  John's  Wood,  N.  W.  It  was  far 
removed  from  the  side  of  London  on  which  the  Park 
was  situate ;  he  had  laid  his  plans  carefully  and  well — 
or  she  had.  Well,  27  Terrisina  Road  should  not  get 
him  or  keep  him  without  a  struggle ;  it  should  be  war 
to  the  knife.  Doubtless  this  was  a  little  soft-eyed 
creature  young  enough  to  be  Regina's  child.  But 
Regina  would  be  soft-eyed,  Regina  would  rejuvenate 
herself,  Regina  would  win  all  along  the  line.  It  was 
in  this  spirit  that  Regina  went  upstairs  and  examined 
her  wardrobe.  She  would  leave  the  house  to  take  care 
of  itself,  merely  throwing  out  a  few  hints  as  to  dinner, 
and  betake  herself  to  town  in  order  to  consult  the 
specialists  whom  she  had  had  in  her  mind  during  the 
last  month.  She  picked  out  the  smartest  of  the  frocks 
which  she  had  not  taken  away  with  her,  and,  casting 
off  her  white  cambric  wrapper  in  which  she  had 
breakfasted,  she  began  to  dress  herself  with  feverishly 
eager  fingers. 

Alack  and  alas!  The  effect  of  careering  through 
the  fresh  country  air,  tinged  as  it  was  with  the  brine 
of  the  ocean,  had  been  to  make  Regina  thoroughly 
enjoy  the  lunches  by  the  wayside,  and  the  more  elabor- 
ate dinners  of  the  evening  hour.  We  all  know  the 
effect  of  good  French  soup,  various  kinds  of  omelettes, 
in  short,  of  excellent  bourgeois  cooking,  and  this  effect 
had  stolen  upon  Regina  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  and 
neither  by  coaxing  nor  force  could  she  get  herself 
into  the  garment  in  which  she  desired  to  travel  to 
town. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  193 

"Good  heavens!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  anx- 
iety, "I  must  have  put  on  stones  while  I  have  been 
away.  The  old  proverb  says  'Laugh  and  grow  fat,' 
and  I  take  it  that  laughter  and  happiness  have  the 
same  effect  if  one  has  a  tendency  that  way.  What 
shall  I  do?" 

There  was  only  one  thing  to  be  done,  and  that  was 
to  get  into  one  of  the  despised  and  discarded  gowns 
in  which  she  had  loomed  large  and  important  on  the 
French  horizon,  and  take  herself  in  quest  of  new 
ones  as  quickly  as  possible.  Then  she  remembered 
that  she  had  sent  a  little  message  on  the  wings  of 
unanimity,  a  little  message  which  had  been  signed, 
"Your  broken-hearted  Miranda."  Surely  by  now 
there  would  be  a  reply  to  it.  She  finished  her  toilette, 
hiding  as  much  of  her  gown  as  she  could  by  the  addi- 
tion of  a  large  lace  cape  which  she  had  bought  as  a 
bargain  in  the  little  French  town  where  she  had  been 
so  happy,  and  then  she  went  downstairs  and  sought 
for  the  back  numbers  of  the  ladies '  periodical  to  which 
she  had  written.  They  were  in  their  accustomed 
place,  the  four  numbers  which  she  had  not  yet  seen. 
She  began  with  the  last.  "Faded  Iras,"  "White 
Heather,"  "White  Rose,"  "Pussy  Cat,"  were  the 
first  words  which  met  her  eyes.  There  was  no 
"Broken-hearted  Miranda,"  and  she  went  on  to  the 
next  number,  and  there,  at  the  top  of  the  column,  was 
the  name  she  was  seeking. 

"My  poor  broken-hearted  Miranda,"  the  reply  ran, 
"how  grieved  and  sorry  I  am  for  you!  Are  you  sure 
that  your  conjectures  are  correct?  I  have  known 
wives  who  made  themselves  very  unhappy  on  very 

13 


194  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OP 

small  grounds — not  that  I  wish  to  imply  that  your 
grounds  for  uneasiness  are  small,  but  are  you  quite 
sure?  If  I  were  you  I  would  take  every  means  of 
finding  out.  With  regard  to  what  you  tell  me  of  your- 
self, I  can  see  you,  my  poor  Miranda,  in  my  mind's 
eye,  and  I  hasten  to  assure  you  that,  whether  you  are 
right  or  wrong,  you  will  not  regret  taking  yourself  in 
hand  in  the  beauty  sense.  For  your  adipose  tissue,  I 
w^ould  recommend  you  to  try  Madame  Winifred  Pol- 
son's  little  brown  tablets.  They  are  w^onderful  in 
their  effect  on  stout  figures,  particularly  in  reducing 
bulk  below^  the  waist.  If  you  begin  them,  be  sure 
that  you  give  them  a  very  good  trial,  and  that  you 
carry  out  her  instructions  fully  and  to  the  very  letter. 
Now,  for  your  complexion,  I  can  advise  you  no  better 
than  to  go  to  Madame  Alvara.  You  needn't  be  the 
least  nervous  of  going  to  her,  as  it  is  not  a  shop,  but 
she  has  an  elegant  private  house  on  the  best  side  of 
Grosvenor  Square.  You  will  probably  meet  three 
duchesses  on  the  stairs,  and  may  have  to  wait  some 
time,  unless  you  make  an  appointment.  Place  your- 
self unreservedly  in  Madame  Alvara 's  hands ;  she  will 
restore  to  you  the  skin  of  your  childhood.  For  your 
hair — well,  that  is  difficult.  I  think  you  ought  to 
w^rite  to  me  again  and  tell  me  what  kind  of  hair  you 
have,  whether  it  is  thin  or  grey,  that  I  may  advise 
you  whether  to  go  to  a  hair  specialist  or  an  artiste 
in  toupes.  Write  to  me  again,  my  dear  Miranda,  and 
pray  believe  that  nothing  is  too  much  trouble  if  I  have 
the  reward  of  knowing  that  I  have  helped  you  to  your 
legitimate  end." 

Involuntarily  Regina  put  up  her  hands  and  passed 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  195 

them  over  her  head.  She  had  let  her  hair  take  care  of 
itself — that  did  not  mean  that  she  was  grey  or  that 
she  had  a  mere  whisp;  she  had  thick  and  luxuriant 
hair,  turned  back  from  her  face  and  done  into  a  simple 
coil  at  the  turn  of  the  head. 

''I  will  not  write  to-day,"  she  said  to  herself;  ''I 
will  go  and  see  the  face  specialist  and  the  beauty 
specialist,  and  I  will  pay  a  visit  to  the  lady  of  the 
little  brown  tablets,  and  then  I  will  go  to  my  tailor. 
Something  I  must  have  to  wear  every  day.  If  I  get  a 
smart  coat  and  skirt,  something  loose  and  chic,  I  can 
put  off  the  rest  of  my  wardrobe  until  I  have  got  my 
figure  down  to  its  normal  size." 

She  went  into  the  hall  intending  to  leave  a  message 
with  the  cook  for  Julia,  but  the  parlor-maid  happened 
to  be  going  through  the  dining-room  to  the  pantry 
with  a  tray  of  silver  things  in  her  hands. 

"Oh,  Margaret,  tell  Miss  Julia  I  shall,  in  all  proba- 
bility, not  be  in  to  lunch,  and  tell  her  not  to  wait  for 
me.    She  will  be  occupied  during  the  rest  of  the  day. ' ' 

"Very  good,  ma'am." 

Then  Regina  sailed  down  the  covered  way  and  got 
into  the  omnibus  which  would  carry  her  to  the  railway 
station.  What  a  day  of  disappointments  it  was !  She 
found  the  beauty  specialist  had  not  yet  returned  to 
towiif  and  there  was  nobody  to  take  her  place.  Not 
that  she  was  unceremoniously  told  this  at  the  door — 
oh  no ;  she  was  shown  into  a  room,  and  the  great  lady's 
secretary  informed  her  that  Madame  Alvara  had  been 
very  unwell — she  had  had  such  a  terribly  hea\^  season 
— carriages  standing  a  dozen  deep  at  the  door  all  day 


196  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

long — everybody  clamoring  for  Madame  ^s  own  opin- 
ion— and  she  was  so  popular,  socially. 

*' Madame  will  not  be  back  until  the  end  of  the 
month ;  I  can  make  an  appointment  for  the  first  week 
in  October.'* 

''Can  you  recommend  me  any  harmless  lotion  to 
begin  with  ? ' '  said  Eegina. 

"Oh  no,  I  should  not  dare  to  interfere  in  Madame 's 
province ;  I  am  only  the  secretary ;  I  arrange  appoint- 
ments, and  so  on. ' ' 

' '  But  you  have  a  skin  like  a  rose  leaf, ' '  said  Regina, 
wistfully. 

''Yes,  I  have  to  thank  Madame  Alvara  for  that. 
You  see,  if  I  were  to  give  you  my  recipe  you  might 
ruin  your  skin.  Oh,  every  case  has  quite  individual 
attention  and  treatment.  The  staff  only  work  under 
Madame  Alvara 's  directions.  Yes,  they  are  busy, 
fairly  busy,  continuing  the  treatment  of  cases  which 
were  begun  last  season.  No  new  cases  will  be  taken 
till  Madame  Alvara  returns." 

So  Regina  had  no  choice  but  to  make  an  appoint- 
ment for  the  5th  of  October,  that  being  the  first 
hour  which  could  be  placed  at  her  disposal.  She  then 
went  off,  after  disappointment  one,  to  Madame 
AVinifred  Poison.  She  had  difficulty  in  finding  the 
place,  and  when  she  did  find  it,  it  did  not  commend 
itself  to  her  ideas  of  shrewd  common-sense.  However, 
she  left  a  couple  of  guineas  behind  her  and  brought 
away  instead  a  little  box  of  something  which  rattled. 
Then  she  went  and  had  some  lunch — not  tea  and 
muffins  this  time,  but  a  good  hot  lunch  at  a  famous 
drapery  establishment  which  she  frequently  patron- 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  197 

ized.  After  that  she  made  some  purchases,  and  then 
she  went  in  search  of  an  establishment  whose  adver- 
tisements she  had  noticed  in  a  ladies'  paper  which 
she  had  taken  up  while  waiting  for  her  lunch  to 
be  served.  "To  Ladies,"  it  said.  "If  you  have  no 
lady's  maid  you  cannot  possibly  care  for  your  own 
hair  as  the  glory  of  womanhood  should  be  cared 
for.  Go  and  consult  the  ladies  who  run  The  Dres- 
sing-Room.  You  can  have  special  treatment  for 
hair  that  is  not  quite  in  health,  special  brushings  for 
hair  that  merely  needs  attention,  and  can  consult 
wdth  experts  as  to  the  most  becoming  way  of  wearing 
your  hair. ' ' 

"That  is  the  place  for  me,"  said  Regina,  taking 
note  of  the  address.  And  so,  after  paying  her  two 
guineas  to  Madame  Poison,  she  next  turned  her  steps 
toward  the  street  wherein  she  should  find  The  Dres- 
sing-Room. 


198  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 


CHAPTER    XX  HI 

THE   DRESSING-ROOM 

I  am  convinced  that  there  is  a  huge  opening  for  what  I  would 
call  an  all-round  advice  bureau.  Its  claims  would  reach 
far  and  wide,  its  clients  would  be  drawn  from  all  classes. 
Among  them  would  be  the  women  who  have  no  taste  in 
dress.  The  only  difficulty  would  be  to  convince  them  of 
the  fact. 

Regina  found  The  Dressing  Room  without  diffi- 
culty. To  be  exact,  it  was  situated  in  Berners  Street 
and  the  number  was  forty-five.  Regina  gained  ad- 
mittance, was  greeted  pleasantly,  and  expressed  a  cer- 
tain portion  of  her  wishes. 

' '  You  would  like  to  have  your  hair  brushed  1 ' '  said 
the  charming  little  lady  who  received  her.  "Oh,  but 
you  have  beautiful  hair,"  she  said,  having  enveloped 
Regina  in  a  snowy  garment,  unfastened  the  still 
abundant  coils,  and  allowed  the  locks  to  stray  over 
her  shoulders.  "0,  you  have  lovely  hair,  but  how 
little  you  make  of  it ! " 

''That  is  exactly  why  I  have  come" — her  tone  was 
pathetic  in  its  eagerness.  ''How  would  you  advise 
me  to  wear  itT' 

"I  don't  know,  I  never  like  to  give  an  opinion  off- 
hand. I'll  brush  it  thoroughly,  see  how  it  lies,  study 
you  face  and  figure — " 

< '  Oh — my  figure ! ' '  said  Regina. 

*' Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  it?" 


i  i 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  199 

Too  fat,"  Regina  sighed. 

Too  fat?  I'd  be  glad  of  a  little  of  your  com- 
plaint," said  the  little  woman,  who  was  herself  about 
as  fat  as  a  match. 

''But  I  am  too  fat,"  Regina  cried. 

''Well,  perhaps  you  might  do  with  a  little  less,  but 
]  vshouldn't  overdo  it  in  the  other  direction.  Of 
course,  there  is  no  doubt  that  good-looking  women 
are  generally  those  who  are  inclined  to  be  stout,  but 
keep  themselves  within  reasonable  limits.  They  have 
the  best  skin,  the  best  hair,  they  have  so  few  lines 
and  so  few  wrinkles,  and  they  escape  the  withered 
look  of  age." 

She  was  brushing  softly  yet  vigorously  at  Regina 's 
soft  bro^\Ti  locks. 

"You  are  beginning  to  wear  your  hair  off  your 
forehead. ' ' 

''I  have  always  worn  it  off  my  forehead,"  said 
Regina,  with  dignity. 

''No — I  don't  mean  that,  I  mean  that  the  continued 
brushing  in  one  direction  has  begun  to  wear  it  away, 
and  your  forehead  seems  higher  than  it  really  is." 

"Yes.  it  is  wearing  back." 

"Now,  we  ought  to  contradict  that  tendency." 

"I  can't  wear  a  fringe,"  said  Regina. 

"No,  a  fringe  would  be  out  of  keeping  with  your 
general  appearance,  and  I  never  advocate  a  fringe  if 
it  can  be  dispensed  with,  but  you  have  been  wearing 
your  hair  so  tightly  dressed.  Now,  would  you  let 
me  shampoo  your  hair  1 ' ' 

"Oh  yes,  do  what  you  like,"  said  Regina,  with 
child-like  faith  and  very  unchild-like  patience. 


200  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

* '  It  will  help  you  a  little— in  this  way,  it  gives  the 
hair  a  fresh  start.  One  should  never  try  to  dress 
one's  hair  in  a  new  fashion  without  shaking  off  as 
much  as  possible  the  old  way. ' ' 

So  Regina's  hair  was  washed  and  dried,  and  then 
came  the  great  question  of  what  style  of  hair-dressing 
she  should  adopt. 

"I  would  like  you  not  to  look  in  the  glass,"  said 
Madame  Florence,  as  the  little  lady  had  asked  Regina 
to  call  her.  "I  should  like  you  to  see  the  finished 
picture  of  yourself  without  your  seeing  the  process. 
So  often  what  comes  to  one  as  a  surprise  is  so  much 
better  than  what  comes  gradually." 

She  opened  a  large  box  on  a  table  at  her  right 
hand,  and  chose  from  it  a  light  frame  of  the  exact 
color  of  Regina 's  hair.  This  she  put  on  Regina 's 
head,  then  she  deftly  manipulated  the  abundant 
tresses,  gathered  them  loosely  over  the  frame  into  a 
knot  at  the  top  of  the  head,  fixing  it  here  and  there 
with  combs,  and  then  slightly  waved  the  looser  por- 
tions of  hair. 

' '  In  most  instances, ' '  she  said  when  she  had  reached 
this  point,  "I  should  recommend  the  wearing  of  a 
net,  but  your  hair  is  so  much  of  a  length,  and  so  un- 
likely to  becOTne  untidy,  that  I  should  not  recom- 
mend you  to  trouble  to  do  more  than  I  have  done. 
Now  look  at  yourself. ' ' 

It  was  such  a  glorified  vision  of  Regina  that  met 
that  lady's  gaze  when  she  looked  at  herself  that  she 
positively  jumped  out  of  her  seat. 
**It  is  really  me?"  she  cried. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  201 

'*Yes,  it  is  really  you,"  said  Madame  Florence. 

*'But  how  shall  I  be  able  to  do  it  myself,  I— I  do 
not  keep  a  maid." 

''Well,  wear  it  to-day,  see  how  you  like  it,  see  how 
your  people  appreciate  it,  do  it  as  well  as  you  can 
and  come  back  again  to  me  to-morrow.  I  will  do 
it  for  you  until  your  hair  has  got  into  condition  and 
takes  these  lines  naturally.     How  do  you  like  it?" 

''I  think  I  must  have  looked  a  perfect  fright 
before,"  said  Regina  in  a  burst  of  confidence. 

"Well,  compared  with  what  you  do  now,  you 
certainly  did.  It  was  a  sin  to  see  all  that  lovely 
hair  wasted  and  made  nothing  of.  By  the  way, 
about  your  combs — I  have  put  you  in  my  ordinary 
combs;  would  you  like  to  have  a  proper  set?" 

*'0h  yes,"  said  Regina,  ''I  will  have  everything 
that  is  necessary,"  for,  as  I  have  already  explained, 
money  was  not  a  matter  of  paramount  importance 
to  her. 

''I  have  put  in  ordinary  imitation  tortoise-shell 
combs  just  to  try.  Take  the  glass,  if  you  please,  and 
look  at  yourself  all  round.  See,  I  will  turn  on  the 
light.  Do  you  like  the  shape  of  the  head?  You  see 
the  combs  improve  it.  I  should  advise  you  to  have 
real  tortoise-shell ;  it  is  better  for  the  hair,  and  more 
in  accordance  with  your  age  and  position  than  little 
cheap  ones." 

*'0h  yes,  I  will  have  good  combs." 

Madame  Florence  touched  a  bell  and  immediately 
there  came  into  the  room  a  young  girl  of  intelligent 
aspect  and  stylish  exterior. 


202  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

''Miss  Margaret,"  said  Madame  Florence,  "will 
you  get  me  the  good  combs?" 

''In  sets?"  said  Miss  Margaret. 

"Yes,  like  these,  only  real." 

"Certainly." 

As  the  girl  left  the  room  Regina  turned  to  Madame 
Florence.  "You  have  a  quaint  custom  here  of  using 
the  Christian  name,"  she  said. 

"We  wish  to  be  impersonal,"  said  Madame 
Florence.  ' '  Our  establishment  is  called  The  Dressing- 
Room,  that  is  sufficient  for  our  purpose,  and  as  we 
must  have  some  distinguishing  mark,  my  partner  and 
I  are  Madame  Florence  and  Madame  Cynthia,  and 
our  helpers  are  Miss  Margaret,  Miss  Bertha  and  Miss 
Violet.  It  gives  us  a  personality  here  which  has 
nothing  to  do  with  our  private  personality.  We 
find  that  it  works  excellently  well."  She  broke  off 
as  Miss  Margaret  came  back  into  the  room  carrying 
a  large  box.  Regina  chose  a  set  of  combs  and 
Madame  Florence  adjusted  them  in  her  hair,  taking 
away  the  cheaper  ones  with  which  she  had  first 
dressed  it. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "you  may  find  your  toque  a  little 
difficult — well,  I  should  like  to  see  your  toque  on." 

The  effect  was  terrible,  for  Regina 's  toques  were 
never  things  of  beauty,  and  this  one  was  less  beautiful 
than  most  of  her  headgear. 

"It  is  impossible!" 

"Well,  it  is  rather  impossible.  Forgive  me  for 
saying  so,  but  how  could  you  buy  such  a  thing?" 

"Madame  Florence,"  said  Regina,  "you  are  a 
lady." 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  203 

*'I  hope  SO;  I  have  always  believed  myself  to  be 
such.'^ 

"I  recognized  it.  I  recognize  it  still  more  as  I 
remain  in  your  presence.  I  will  be  frank  with  you, 
I  will  be  candid.  I  see  you  have  a  copy  of  the 
Illustrated  Ladies'  Joy  on  the  table.  I  should  like 
to  speak  to  you  alone,"  she  said  in  an  undertone. 

Madame  Florence  gave  a  look  at  the  younger  lady, 
which  she  interpreted,  and  immediately  disappeared 
from  the  room. 

"I  may  speak  to  you  in  confidence?" 

''Certa^inly." 

''Give  me  the  number  of  the  Illustrated  Ladies* 
Joy  for  the  week  before  last." 

''Certainly.     Here  it  is." 

Regina  turned  with  trembling  fingers  to  the 
answers  to  correspondents  on  matters  connected 
with  the  toilette.  "Read  that,"  she  said,  pointing 
to  the  answer  which  was  headed  "broken-hearted 
]\iiranda. ' ' 

"I  am  that  woman;  I  am  'broken-hearted 
Miranda.'  " 

"Dear,  dear,  dear,"  said  Madame  Florence,  "are 
you  really  sure  that  it  is  so?" 

"I  am  afraid  so.  My  husband  is  the  noblest  of 
men — generous,  brave,  true-hearted — he  has  been  got 
hold  of,  Madame  Florence." 

"And  you  must  get  him  back  again,"  said  Madame 
Florence  in  sharp  staccato  accents.  "You  are  a 
good-looking  woman,  a  little  stout,  but  that  can  be 
got  rid  of  by  judicious  means." 

"I  have  taken  means;  I  have  just  bought  some  of 


204  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

Madame    Winifred    Poison's    little    brown    tablets." 

''Two  guineas'  worth  1" 

''Yes." 

"I  would  not  take  them  if  I  were  you.  They  will 
eat  away  the  lining  of  your  stomach,  they  will  make 
you  dyspeptic,  the  will  perforate  your  bowels  and 
do  all  sorts  of  horrible  things.  They  are  made  of 
iodine  and  sea  wrack.  Put  them  into  the  fire,  my 
dear  lady." 

"But  I  paid  two  guineas  for  them,"  said  Regina. 

Madame  Florence  laughed.  "Well,  take  them 
home  with  you  if  you  like,  and  look  at  them  oc- 
casionally and  say  'These  cost  me  two  guineas,'  but 
don't  take  them.  If  you  want  to  get  thin,  go  to 
a  medical  man  who  thoroughly  understands  the 
science  of  food  and  fat — or  fat  and  food." 

"Are  there  such  people?" 

"Oh  yes.  You  say  you  like  simple  diet,  and  take 
all  sorts  of  starchy  foods  and  think  that  makes  your 
skin  fine  and  clear.  My  dear  lady,  it  is  not  the  milky 
foods  you  take,  the  bread  and  butter  and  cream  and 
the  extra  two  lumps  of  sugar  in  your  tea  that  make 
your  skin  fine  and  clear;  it  is  simply  that  you  were 
born  with  a  fine  skin,  and  have  been  doing  every- 
thing you  could  to  ruin  it  during  the  whole  of  your 
life." 

"You  think  that  under  diet  my  skin  will  regain  its 
normal  beauty?" 

"Of  course  it  will.  If  you  put  yourself  into 
proper  hands,  you  won't  know  yourself.  When  I  say 
*  proper  hands'  I  do  not  mean  my  own.  My  business 
is   connected   entirely  with   the   hair,   nothing   else. 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  205 

but  I  know  who  are  skilled  in  all  matters  of  diet. 
I  will  give  you  the  name  and  address  of  a  doctor  in 
Harley  Street  who  will  charge  you  a  fixed  sum  for 
your  course,  and  who  will  give  you  the  smallest  and 
closest  directions  for  getting  rid  of  your  superfluous 
fat  without  making  you  in  the  least  bit  skinny  or 
withered. ' ' 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  you,"  said  Regina ;  ''I 
wish  I  had  not  gone  to  Madame  Poison.  Not  that 
two  guineas  is  a  matter  of  very  great  importance, 
but  I  hate  being  done." 

''Of  course  you  do,  all  nice,  sensible  people  do. 
But  you  will  not  take  those  tablets,  will  you  ? ' ' 

''Not  in  the  face  of  what  you  have  told  me.  Will 
you  give  me  the  address  of  the  doctor  in  Harley 
Street?     I  will  go  to  him  now." 

' '  You  cannot  go  to  him  now :  you  see  it  is  past  his 
hours — you  have  been  here  so  long.  Let  me  give 
you  a  cup  of  tea." 

"You  are  very  kind." 

' '  And  you  will  let  me  do  your  hair  for  a  week  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  I  will  come  every  day  for  a  week.  Tell  me, 
how  do  you  charge  for  your  treatments?" 

"Well,  we  give  so  many  for  a  guinea.  A  simple 
treatment  is  brushing  it  and  arranging  it  in  the 
ordinary  way.  Shampooing  is  extra,  the  combs  are 
extra,  the  frame  is  extra,  and  waving  the  hair  is 
again  another  charge.  We  will  put  your  treatment 
to-day  at  a  lump  sum — half-a-guinea.  You  should 
take  another  guinea's  worth  of  simple  treatments — 
that  is  to  say,  I  will  brush  your  hair  every  day  for  a 
week,  wave  it  and  dress  it  like  this  for  a  guinea. 


206  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

After  that,  if  you  come  to  me  once  a  week  you  will 
find  that  your  hair  will  be  kept  in  perfect  condition. 
Occasionally  you  will  care  to  have  a  shampoo,  but 
that  is  as  you  feel.  I  have  many  clients  who  never 
have  their  heads  touched  except  with  my  hair 
brushes. ' ' 

"But  about  my  toque?  I  cannot  go  out  like  this. 
I  must  put  my  hair  back  to-day.     I  must  get  home. ' ' 

'*I  never  like,"  said  Madame  Florence,  "I  never 
like  to  recommend  special  means  if  my  clients  are 
restricted  in  the  way  of  money.  I — er — it  is  the 
season  of  changing  one's  clothes;  you  will  be  buying 
new  toques?" 

''Oh  yes." 

""VVe  have  another  business — nothing  to  do  with 
me — but  another  business  is  run  under  this  roof," 
said  Madame  Florence.  ''Would  you  care  to  see 
some  toques?" 

"Oh,  have  you?  Then  I  will  have  a  new  toque," 
said  Regina.  "I — I  will  be  frank  and  candid  with 
you.  I  am  a  very  remarkable  woman — I  am  Mrs. 
Alfred  Whittaker.  I  have  been  for  many  years 
President  of  the  Society  for  the  Regeneration  of 
Womanhood — I  have  regenerated  all  sorts  of  things 
connected  with  women,  and  now  I  want  to  regenerate 
myself.  I  have  given  up  my  presidency,  I  have 
w^orked  for  others  long  enough,  and  some  hussy  has, 
in  a  measure,  supplanted  me  with  my  husband.  I 
want — I  want  to  learn  a  great  deal,  I  want  to  go  to 
school  again.  I  have  never  known  how  to  dress 
myself,  I  have  never  known  how  to  make  the  most 
of  myself.     Dear  Madame  Florence,  I  like  you;  you 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  207 

have  faithful  eyes,  I  can  see  you  are  a  woman  to  be 
trusted— it  has  been  my  business  for  years  past 
to  judge  characters  by  exteriors— you  inspire  me 
with  confidence.  Will  you  help  me,  will  you  come 
and  choose  something  to  put  on  my  head  1 ' ' 

I  am  bound  to  say  that  it  was  with  great  difficulty 
that  Madame  Florence  restrained  the  broadest  of 
broad  smiles. 

''Madame  Clementine/"  she  said,  "has  a  suite  of 
rooms  on  the  first  floor.  If  you  will  come  with  me 
I  will  introduce  her  to  you.  No,  I  would  not  put 
your  toque  on,  it  is  so  ugly.  Best  not  to  let  her 
Imow  you  have  ever  worn  anything  so  unbecoming. 
I  will  send  a  message  down  to  make  sure  she  is 
alone."  She  touched  a  bell,  and  again  Miss  Mar- 
garet came  into  the  room.  "Just  go  down  and  see  if 
Madame  Clementine  is  below  and  alone.  This  lady 
is  going  down  to  choose  a  toque." 

Two  minutes  later  Regina  found  herself  following 
Madame  Florence  down  the  stairs  leading  to  the  first 
floor. 

"Good  afternoon,  Madame  Clementine,"  said 
Madame  Florence,  cheerfully,  "I  have  brought  you 
a  new  client.  This  is  ]\Irs.  Alfred  Whittaker — so 
well  known — all  women  know  the  name  of  Mrs. 
Alfred  AYhittaker.  I  have  been  arranging  her 
hair,  and  I  want  you  to  crown  my  efforts  with  the 
prettiest  toque  you  have  in  your  show-rooms." 


208  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

RUMOR 

Have  you  ever  noticed  how  a  lie  spreads  and  grows  as  it  flies 
along?  What  a  pity  it  is  that  the  truth  does  not  increase 
in  the  same  proportion! 

''Pray  be  seated,  madame,"  said  Madame  Clemen- 
tine. "I  am  delighted  to  be  honored  by  a  visit  from 
so  distinguished  a  lady.  Certainly  I  know  your  name 
well,  everyone  interested  in  the  cause  of  womanhood 
knows  the  name  of  Mrs.  Alfred  Whittaker. " 

Regina  smiled  and  bowed.  She  was  well  accus- 
tomed to  this  kind  of  flattery,  but  it  had  never  lost  its 
charm  for  her,  and  now,  after  all  those  years,  she 
accepted  it  at  its  face  value. 

"Mademoiselle  Gabrielle,"  called  Madame  Clemen- 
tine. 

^^Mais  oui,  Madame,"  answered  a  voice  from 
another  room,  and  immediately  a  little  French  girl 
came  running  in. 

"Now,  mademoiselle,  here  is  a  very  distinguished 
lady — This  is  my  right  hand,"  said  Madame  Clemen- 
tine, turning  to  Regina.  "Now,  something  very  chic. 
Yes,  look  Mrs.  Whittaker  well  over.  You  see,  Ga- 
brielle looks  from  this  point  and  from  that  point,  she 
takes  in  the  whole.  It  is  not  with  us  to  sell  any  hat 
that  comes  first,  but  to  sell  madame  a  hat  that  will 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  209 

always  give  madame  satisfaction  when  she  looks  in 

the  glass." 

"Mrs.  Whittaker  has  not  been  very  pleased  with 
her  milliner  heretofore,"  said  Madame  Florence. 

"Ah  madame,  now  you  will  never  go  anywhere 
else.  My  clients  never  leave  me,  because  I  believe  in 
what  you  English  call  'the  personal  note.'  We  have 
models— oh  yes,  that  is  absolutely  necessary,  be- 
cause we  have  ladies  who  come  in  and  say,  'I  want 
a  hat,  I  want  to  wear  it  now,'  and  they  pay  for  it  and 
go  away.  Well,  we  must  supply  their  needs,  but, 
when  we  have  regular  clients,  we  like  to  have  a  day 
or  two  of  notice,  to  see  the  dress  madame  is  wearing, 
the  mood  madame  is  in,  and  her  state  of  health,  then 
we  make  a  toque  that  is  madame 's  toque,  not  a  toque 
that  you  will  meet  three  times  between  this  and  Ox- 
ford Street." 

' '  If  you  suit  me, ' '  said  Regina,  ' '  and  give  me  some- 
thing that  I  can  go  home  in,  I  will  put  myself  unre- 
servedly in  your  hands  in  the  future.  I  know  little 
or  nothing  about  dress, ' '  she  went  on,  with  a  superior, 
platform  kind  of  air — an  assertion  which  made  the 
lively  Frenchwoman  positively  shudder — "yet  I  am 
feminine  enough  to  wish  to  be  well  dressed." 

"Ah,  we  will  satisfy  madame.    Well,  Gabriellel" 

"I  think,"  said  little  Mademoiselle  Gabrielle,  "that 
madame  will  find  the  toque  that  came  down  yesterday 
would  suit  her  as  well  as  anything  not  specially  made 
for  her.     I  will  get  it,  madame." 

She  disappeared  into  the  next  room,  returning  with 
a  large  black  toque  in  her  hand.  It  was  light 
in  fabric,  it  was  bright  with  jet,  and  a  couple  of 
14 


210  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

handsome  black  plumes  fell  over  the  coiffure  at  the 
back. 

"Ah,  yes,  Gabrielle,  yes.  Now  try  it  on,  madame. 
Not  with  those  pins,  they  do  not  fit  with  the  style  of 
the  hat.    Madame  will  not  mind  to  buy  hat-pins  ? ' ' 

"If  they  are  not  ruinous,"  said  Regina,  who  was  in 
a  very  much  "in  for  a  penny,  in  for  a  pound"  kind  of 
mind. 

' '  Antoinette,  Antoinette,  bring  the  box  of  'at-pins, ' ' 
said  Mademoiselle  Gabrielle. 

Immediately  another  little  French  girl  came  out 
carrying  a  large  tray  of  hat-pins. 

"Madame  is  not  in  mourning?  We  will  not  have 
jet — no,  no !    Now  these  ? ' ' 

She  pounced  upon  some  cut-steel  hat-pins  which 
matched  the  ornaments  on  the  hat,  and  then  with  deft 
and  soft  little  fingers  she  firmly  fixed  the  toque  on 
Regina 's  head. 

"You  see,"  said  Madame  Clementine,  spreading 
her  hands,  and  looking  at  Madame  Florence  for  ap- 
proval. "Yes,  that  is  the  hat  for  madame.  Regard 
yourself,  madame — give  madame  the  'and-glass. " 

Regina  got  up  and  walked  with  stately  mien  to  the 
long  glass  set  so  as  to  catch  the  best  light  from  the 
windows.  Indeed,  the  toque  was  most  becoming.  She 
saw  herself  a  different  woman,  more  like  those  gra- 
cious, well-furnished  superb  British  matrons  whom 
she  was  accustomed  to  see  sitting  behind  prancing 
horses  and  powdered  footmen  on  those  rare  occasions 
when  she  had  allowed  herself  to  be  inveigled  into  the 
Park.  It  was  not  a  cheap  toque,  but  Regina  had  the 
sense  to  see  that  it  was  worth  the  money  asked  for  it. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  211 

''It  is  not  ver'  cheap,"  said  Madame  Clementine, 
"non,  but  it  is  good,  it  will  last,  it  is  not  a  toque  for  a 
day  and  then  another  for  to-morrow.  Then  these 
plumes,  they  will  come  in  again  and  again." 

''I  will  have  it,"  said  Regina;  "I  am  quite  satis- 
fied with  it.  I  only  feel.  Madame  Clementine,  that — 
er — my — my  upper  part  is,  well — is  superior  to  my 
lower  part,  what  in  our  vernacular  we  call  'a  ha'- 
penny head  and  a  farthing  tail. '  ' ' 

"Oh,  ver'  good,  ver'  good,"  cried  Madame  Clemen- 
tine, with  your  true  Parisienne's  shriek  of  laughter. 
' '  You  see,  Gabrielle,  the  gros  sou  for  the  head  and  the 
little  sou  for  the  tail.  Oh,  that  is  most  expressive. 
But,  madame,  you  can  remedy  that." 

"Oh  yes,  I  suppose  I  can,"  said  Regina.  doubtfully, 
"I  wish  you  were  a  dressmaker." 

"Oh,  indeed,  no!  It  does  not  do,  you  have  not  chic 
if  you  mix  all  sorts  together.  To  be  modiste  and  to 
be  couturiere  is  like  being  a  painter  and  a  singer  at 
the  same  time.  But  I  can  tell  you  of  a  little  French- 
woman— she  could  dress  you — ah — eugh  ! ' '  And  she 
kissed  the  tips  of  her  fingers. 

"Well,  if  you  will  give  me  her  address  I  will  go  to 
her,"  said  Regina. 

"To-day?  But  it  is  too  late,"  said  Madame  Flor- 
ence. "Mrs.  Whittaker  is  coming  upstairs  to  have 
tea  with  me, ' '  she  added ;  "it  will  be  ready  now. ' ' 

"Does  your  friend  live  far  away?"  said  Regina  to 
Madame  Clementine. 

"No,  not  very  far,  just  three  streets  away.  It  is 
une  vraie  artiste — no  great  price,  she  is  not  known. 
By-and-bye  she  will  be — unattainable,   excepting  to 


212  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

her  old  clients.  Antoinette,  write  down  the  address  of 
Madame  d'Estelle.  And  when  you  have  arranged 
your  gowns  with  her,  you  will  come  back  to  me  for 
suitable  toques?" 

''Yes,"  said  Regina,  ''I  will  put  myself  unreserv- 
edly in  your  hands.  I  feel  you  are  a  woman  of  taste, 
an  artiste.    I  frankly  confess  that  I  am — not." 

It  was  with  many  wreathed  smiles,  becks  and  bows 
and  assurances  of  welcome  when  she  should  come 
again  that  Regina  was  finally  allowed  to  return  to  The 
Dressing-Room  for  the  tea  which  was  waiting  her. 
Finally,  after  having  written  a  cheque  for  her  pre- 
liminary treatments,  she  found  herself  walking  along 
Berners  Street  in  the  direction  of  Oxford  Street,  and 
a  feeling  took  possession  of  her  that,  after  all,  fash- 
ionable women  knew  what  they  were  doing  when  they 
patronized  private  establishments.  She  had  heard  of 
them,  because  details  of  dress  had  not  wholly  ebbed  by 
leaving  her  high  and  dry  on  the  shore  of  high  princi- 
ple, devoid  of  the  herbage  of  feminine  grace.  She  had 
heard  that  no  well-dressed  woman,  no  really  well- 
dressed  woman,  would  ever  get  her  clothes  at  a  shop, 
and  her  keen  and  busy  brain  turned  over  the  subject 
as  she  walked  away  from  The  Dressing-Room.  After 
all,  she  had  learned  much  during  her  years  at  the 
helm  of  the  Society  for  the  Regeneration  of  Women, 
and  she  had  learned,  above  all  things,  to  set  a  true 
value  on  the  quality  which  is  called  individualism. 
She  had  learned  that  you  cannot  herd  humanity  with 
success,  and  she  was  now  learning  that  you  cannot 
dress  humanity  en  Hoc.  She  felt  a  curious  shyness 
as  she  caught  sight  of  her  unaccustomed  appearance 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  213 

in  the  shop  windows  as  she  passed,  and  once  she 
stopped  as  she  was  walking  along  Oxford  Street,  at  a 
large  furniture  establishment,  and  looked  at  herself 
searchingly.  Yes,  in  spite  of  the  feeling  of  looseness 
about  her  head  which  worried  her  not  a  little,  she 
could  see  the  intense  becomingness  of  the  new  way  in 
which  her  hair  was  arranged.  It  was  then  after  five 
o'clock,  but  she  steadily  pursued  her  way  in  search  of 
Madame  d'Estelle.  I  need  not  go  into  the  details  of 
her  visit.  Madame  d'Estelle  made  short  work  of  her 
new  client. 

''Yes,  madame,"  she  said,  ''you  want  a  little  frock 
built  for  that  toque.  Well,  leave  it  to  me,  leave  it 
to  me;  I  will  make  you  a  little  frock — say  ten 
guineas?  (Take  madame 's  measure.)  While  they 
take  your  measurements  I  will  walk  round  and  study 
you.  You  will  come  again  in  three  days  for  a  fitting, 
then,  if  it  is  necessary  you  will  come  again  three  days 
after  that,  then  in  three  days  more  you  will  have  your 
frock.  I  will  make  you  something  consistent  with 
your  personality — it  will  be  a  little  black  frock,  noth- 
ing very  important,  but  it  will  give  us  a  sufficient 
start.  (Write,  madame,  a  note — ten  guineas — and 
the  day  of  the  fitting.)  Leave  yourself  to  me, 
madame,  it  will  be  all  right. ' ' 

Then  Regina  went  home.  She  felt  that  everybody 
in  the  Park  was  looking  at  her.  So  they  were,  for 
the  story  had  gone  round  that  Mrs.  Whittaker  had 
become  a  little  wrong  in  her  head.  The  story  had  been 
going  round  that  she  had  been  seen  walking  up  the 
road  in  her  nightgown  and  many  variations  of  it 
had  already  found  credence.     "Have  you  heard  the 


214  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

news  ?    That  Mrs.  Whittaker  of  Ye  Dene  has  gone  off 
her  dot."     ''Oh,  my  dear!"     "Well,   Charley  says 
he  met  her  walking  up  the  road  in  her  nightgown. 
"Oh,   nonsense."      "Well,   that's   what   I    said,   but 
Charley  met  her  himself. "    "  Was  she  walking  in  her 
sleep  ? "    "  Charley  didn  't  seem  to  think  so. ' '    Then  a 
little  later,  "You  know  Mrs.  Whittaker  of  Ye  Dene, 
they're  saying  she's  got  a  tile  off."    "Well,  I  always 
did  think  she  was  a  peculiar   kind   of  woman;    no 
woman  would  dress  like  that  who  was  altogether  right 
in  her  head."     "Yes,  but  I  didn't  think  she  was  as 
bad  as  that.    Why !  she,  the  President  of  some  society 
for  making  new  women.     Who  says  she's  got  a  tile 
off?"     "AVell,  my  sister  was  at  the  Wingfield-Jack- 
sons'  yesterday,  and  Mrs.  Jackson  told  her  that  Char- 
ley had  seen  her  walking  up  the  road  in  her  night- 
gown, so  she  must  be  quite  dotty,  you  know. ' '    A  few 
days  after  the  story  spread  still  further.     "You've 
heard  the  latest,  of  course. "    " No,  I 've  heard  nothing 
particular,  most  people  are  away."     "They've  taken 
poor   Mrs.   Whittaker   away   to   a   lunatic    asylum." 
"Oh,    my    dear,    you    don't    say    so.      AVhat    for?" 
"Well,  I  suppose  she's  gone  out  of  her  mind.   Perhaps 
the    wedding,    the    fuss — so    many    presents — ah,    I 
thought  at  the  time  they  were  rather  overdoing  it." 
"But    I    thought    she    was    such    a    strong-minded 
woman."     "Ah,  but  don't  you  think  there's  always 
something     abnormal     about     these     strong-minded 
women.     Just  as  my  Harry  said  when  he  told  me — 
he  got  it  from  the  club,  of  course;    all  the  gossip  in 
the  place  comes  from  the  club — as  he  said,  it 's  all  very 
well  to  take  women  out  of  their  rightful  sphere  and  let 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  215 

them  regenerate  the  world,  but  it  doesn't  pay;  that 
that's  just  how  we  ordinary  women,  who  haven't  got 
souls  above  our  natural  duties,  may  take  comfort  to 
ourselves. "  "  When  did  it  happen  ? "  "  I  don 't  know, 
but  when  they  were  supposed  to  go  abroad  she  was 
taken  away  to  a  lunatic  asylum.  They  say  she's  at 
Bolitho  House,  and  I  did  hear  that  she  is  kept  in  a 
padded  room."  "But,  my  dear,"  said  the  other 
woman,  ' '  just  turn  your  eyes  to  the  window.  There 's 
Mrs.  Whittaker  walking  down  the  road  with  her  hair 
dressed  a  new  way  and  the  smartest  hat  on  her  head 
that  I  've  ever  seen  in  my  life ! "    "  Well,  I  never ! ' ' 


216  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 


CHAPTER    XXV 


POOR   MOTHER 


I  think  that  nothing  in  the  world  shows  truer  affection  than 
that  curious  resentment  against  any  change  in  the  appear- 
ance of  those  we  love, 

Regina,  all  unconscious  of  the  gossip  that  with  her 
for  its  central  figure  was  floating  about  the  Park, 
went  slowly  down  the  road  in  the  direction  of  Ye 
Dene.  Truth  to  tell,  she  was  a  little  shy  of  facing  her 
family  in  her  new  guise.  It  was  then  after  six 
o'clock;  in  fact,  it  was  fast  approaching  the  hour  of 
seven.  Now  it  happened  that  Julia  had  been  off  on  an 
expedition  to  town  with  one  of  the  Marksby  girls,  and 
had  only  arrived  home  about  ten  minutes  previously, 
and  being  tired  had  gone  into  the  pleasant  sitting- 
room  which  she  and  Maudie  had  hitherto  shared  be- 
tween them.  When  Mrs.  Whittaker  came  up  the 
covered  way  Julia  saw  her  from  where  she  was  sitting, 
for  both  the  sitting-room  door  and  the  front  door  were 
wide  open. 

' '  Hullo,  mother,  are  you  back  ? ' '  she  called  out. 

Regina  with  a  certain  accession  of  color  and  a 
certain  acceleration  of  heart  beating,  replied  with  a 
pleasant  word  and  walked  into  Julia's  sitting-room. 

*'0h,  you've  not  been  back  long?"  she  said. 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  217 

Julia  did  not  reply.  It  was  not  perhaps  a  remark 
that  called  for  any  special  attention  in  the  way  of 
answer,  but  if  it  had  it  would  have  been  all  the  same. 

''Why,  ynother—"  and  she  stared  at  Regina  as  if 
she  were  indeed  fitted  for  the  padded  room  which  had 
been  mentioned  a  few  minutes  previously. 

''I  have  got  a  new  toque,"  said  Regina. 

"Oh,  the  toque  is  all  right— a  little  big—" 

"I  don't  think  so.  It  was  chosen  for  me  by  a 
Frenchwoman  whose  taste  is  indisputable. 

"I  have  not  always  found  French  taste  indisput- 
able," said  Julia,  remembering  with  a  certain  shame 
some  of  the  purchases  that  she  and  :\Iaudie  had  made 
in  days  gone  by.  "Your  tociue's  all  right,  but  what 
have  you  been  doing  to  your  hair  ? ' ' 

' '  I  have  had  my  hair  shampooed  and  brushed,  and  I 
intend  to  wear  it  in  another  mode. ' ' 

' '  It  looks  horrid ! ' '  said  Julia. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  answered  Regina,  her  color 
still  heightened  and  a  great  accession  of  dignity  in 
her  manner.  "You  do  not  always  wear  your  hair 
the  same,  why  should  I?  I  have  got  to  that  time  of 
life  when  what  suited  me  at  thirty  does  not  still  suit 
me  at  fifty,  and  my  hair  showed  signs  of  wearing  off 
the  forehead,  and  I  do  not  like  a  bald  forehead  either 
in  a  man  or  a  woman." 

"Oh,  I  daresay  you  are  right.  Of  course,  you  are 
at  liberty  to  make  whatever  sort  of  a  guy  you  like  of 
yourself,  only  don't  ask  me  to  admire  it,  that's  all." 

The  tone  was  rude,  and  Regina  felt  stabbed  to  the 
heart. 

"I  do  not  always  admire  your  taste  in  dress,  Julia, 


>> 


218  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

she  said  very  quietly.  ''I  sometimes  think  that  if  a 
mother  had  all  her  life  had  a  frightful  wart  on  her 
nose,  her  children  would  resent  its  removal  because 
they  had  grown  accustomed  to  it.  I  have  chosen,  my 
dear,  to  do  my  hair  in  a  new  fashion,  and  I  am  not  to 
be  turned  from  my  jjurpose  by  even  your  wishes.  I 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  have  paid  too  little 
attention  in  the  past  to  the  details  which  most  women 
think  of  paramount  importance.  I  am  going  to 
change  all  that  and  I  have  begun  with  my  hair  and 
my  toque. ' ' 

She  did  not  wait  for  Julia  to  reply,  but  turned  and 
went  quietly  and  quickly  out  of  the  room,  leaving 
Julia  speechless  and  astonished. 

''Now,  what  has  happened  to  her?"  said  Julia. 
"Why  should  she,  all  at  once,  take  to  altering  herself 
like  that?  Surely  mother  isn't  going  to  be  frivolous 
in  her  old  age.  I  wonder  what  daddy  will  say.  She 's 
going  to  'alter  all  that.'  Well,  of  course — she's  at 
liberty  to  please  herself.  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to 
have  jumped  on  her  like  that — poor  mother!" 

She  got  up  and  ran  up  the  broad  and  shallow  stairs, 
knocked  at  her  mother's  door,  and,  without  waiting 
for  an  answer,  entered  the  room. 

"I  say,  mother,"  she  said. 

Regina  was  standing  before  the  glass,  evidently  in 
the  act  of  taking  the  pins  out  of  her  hat.  She  turned 
round. 

"You  want  me?"  she  asked.  Her  tone  was  quite 
pleasant  and  sweet,  but  there  was  an  indefinable  sensp 
of  woundedness  about  it  which  touched  Julia  to  the 
very  quick, 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  219 

**0h,  I  say,  mother,  I  was  beastly  rude  to  you  just 
now.    But  I  didn  't  mean  to  be. ' ' 

**I  am  sure  you  didn't." 

"You  see,  when  one  has  a  mother  that  one  thinks 
an  awful  lot  of,  and  who  always  wears  her  hair  the 
same,  one  feels  sort  of  blank  when  she  makes  herself 
look  different.  But  I  was  rude,  and  I'm  awfully 
sorry ;  I  didn 't  mean  it  for  that. ' ' 

She  came  to  the  side  of  the  dressing-table  and 
stood  looking  at  her  mother  with  honest,  troubled 
eyes.  Regina  caught  her  by  the  hand  and  drew  her  to 
her  ample  bosom. 

"I  felt  myself  growing  such  a  frump,"  she  said. 
"I  don't  know  when,  I  think  it  was  about  the  time 
of  Maudie's  wedding,  that  I  felt,  all  at  once,  that  I 
was  getting  into  a  fossil  like  all  other  women  workers. 
I  never  saw  it  all  those  years  till  about  that  time,  and 
I  hated  myself  for  being  frumpy  and  ridiculous. ' ' 

"You  never  were  that  to  us,"  said  Julia,  with  quick 
reproach.  ' '  I  hope  you  never  thought  we  thought  so, 
for  we  never  did. ' ' 

"Well,  well,  well,  I  will  wear  my  hair  this  way  for 
a  little  while,  and  if  you  and  dear  father  do  not  like 
it  I  will  put  it  back  into  the  old  way  again.  It  is  bad 
for  the  hair  to  dress  it  always  in  the  same  fashion. ' ' 

"Well,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  it  looks  awfully 
nice,  and  you've  lovely  hair  and  a  glorious  com- 
plexion. ' ' 

At  this  the  color  on  Regina 's  cheeks  deepened  into 
a  veritable  rose  blush.  Julia  hurried  on — "It's  a 
beautiful  hat,"  she  said.  "Where  did  you  get  it? 
How  did  vou  light  on  this  Frenchwoman?     Was  it 


220  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

very  expensive?    It's  worth  it,  whatever  it  cost." 

''No,"  said  Regina,  "it  was  four  guineas;  I  don't 
call  that  very  expensive  for  a  hat  with  good  feathers. ' ' 

* '  Oh,  not  a  bit !  And  even  if  it  was,  you  can  afford 
it.  I  think  you  are  quite  right,  now  you  have  chucked 
the  regeneration  business,  to  start  regenerating  your 
own  person.  I  admit  it  gave  me  a  shock  when  you 
came  in.  You  know,  somehow  one  doesn't  like  the 
first  idea  of  one 's  mother  being  tampered  with. ' ' 

Then  Regina  told  Julia  how  she  came  to  put  her- 
self in  the  hands  of  Madame  Florence  and  the  little 
Frenchwoman  on  the  first  floor — that  is  to  say,  she 
told  her  in  part,  not  giving  her  reasons,  her  actual 
reasons,  or  the  source  of  her  information  concerning 
them. 

"But  how  will  you  do  your  hair  to-morrow 
morning  ? ' ' 

"I  do  not  know  quite  how  I  shall  do  it.  I  am 
going  to  Madame  Florence  every  day  for  a  week,  so 
that  she  may  do  it  and  get  it  into  the  proper  set. 
^Vhen  she  had  arranged  my  hair  she  gave  me  a  lesson 
on  a  dummy,  so  that  I  really  do  know  how  things 
should  be,  and  she  thinks  after  a  week  I  shall  be  quite 
able  to  do  it  myself.  Besides,  as  she  says,  it  makes 
such  a  difference — the  way  your  hair  is  accustomed 
to  go." 

"You'll  never  be  able  to  wave  your  own  hair, 
mother. ' ' 

"Well,  I  don't  like  to  think  about  that  part  of  it," 
said  Regina. 

"Darling,"  said  Julia,  feeling  that  she  had 
smoothed  over  her  previous  indiscretions,  ' '  why  don 't 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  221 

you  have  a  maid  1  She  would  be  so  useful  to  both  of 
us.  Think  of  somebody  who  would  be  able  to  make 
smart  blouses,  do  up  frocks  and  touch  up  hats  and 
generally  make  life  easy  and  comfortable.  Why  don't 
you  have  a  maidT' 

' '  It  seems  such  an  expense, ' '  said  Regina. 

''But  you  can  afford  it— I  shall  talk  to  father." 

''If  I  did  have  a  maid  I  should  pay  her  myself;  I 
shouldn't  think  of  coming  on  your  father  for  an  ex- 
travagance of  that  sort." 

"Well,  you  have  more  money  than  you  ever  spend. 
Dearest,  you  have  got  into  the  habit  of  going  without 
things,  and  we  have  got  into  the  habit  of  regarding 
you  as  a  person  of  no  vanities,  so  that  we  resent  it 
when  you  show  the  smallest  sign  of  anything  feminine 
in  your  nature.  Now  I  come  to  look  at  you  again," 
said  Julia,  with  her  head  on  one  side,  "I  think  I  do 
like  you  better  like  this.  It  is  more  important  looking ; 
it  seems  to  make  your  head  more  of  a  size  with  the  rest 
of  you.  I  like  you  in  black — you  know,  mother,  you 
never  wear  black.    Do  you  mind  if  I  try  it  on  ? " 

"Why  of  course  not."  It  was  with  pride  that 
Regina  stood  by  and  saw  her  daughter  poise  the  beau- 
tiful black  toque  upon  her  own  abundant  locks. 

"Oh  yes,  it's  a  ravishing  hat,"  Julia  declared.  "I 
think  I  must  go  and  see  your  Madame  Clementine. 
You  won't  mind?— Ah,  there  is  daddy  coming." 

At  that  moment  Alfred's  solid  footstep  was  heard 
upon  the  landing.  "Hullo,  young  woman,"  he  said  a 
moment  later  as  he  entered  the  room,  "got  a  new 
hat!" 


222  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OP 

''It's  mother's  hat/'  said  Julia  with  emphasis 
and  awaited  developments. 

*'Yonr  mother's?  Well,  my  dear,  you  have  been 
doing  yourself  very  well.  Why — bless  my  soul — 
what  have  you  been  doing  to  your  head?" 

"I  have  been  having  my  hair  brushed  and  cared 
for,"  said  Regina,  feeling  that  she  must  take  her  bull 
by  the  horns  and  grasp  her  nettle  without  delay. 

"Why  didn't  they  put  it  up  as  it  was — let  me  look 
at  you.  I  don't  know" — and  he  passed  his  thumb 
down  one  cheek  and  his  fingers  down  the  other  till 
they  met  at  the  lowest  point  of  his  chin,  "I  don't 
know — it  isn't  you,  you  see." 

"Don't  say  you  dislike  it,  Alfred,"  said  Regina, 
with  pathetic  wistfulness. 

"I  don't  say  I  dislike  it,  at  the  same  time — it  isn't 
you,"  he  replied.  "Put  the  hat  on — let's  see  you  in 
it.  Yes — I  don't  know.  It's  a  pity  to  hide  a  fore- 
head like  yours  with  all  that  loose  hair.  I  know 
women  are  all  wearing  it  so;  but  at  the  same  time, 
I  think  it  is  a  pity." 

"I've  got  to  look  such  a  frump,  Alfred,"  said 
Regina,  taking  the  hat  off  again  and  patting  her  hair 
into  place. 

"No,  my  dear,  that  you  never  did.  You  have  a 
distinctiveness  all  your  own.  As  to  this  new-fangled 
arrangement — well,  if  it  pleases  you  to  do  it  that  way, 
you  must  do  it  that  way  and  we  must  get  used  to 
it.  Perhaps,  in  a  little  while,  we  shall  like  it  better 
than  as  it  was  before." 

"But  it  does  not  meet  with  your  unqualified 
approval,  Alfred?"  said  Regina. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  223 

*'No,  I  can't  say  that  it  does.'* 

"It  makes  me  look  younger,"  she  asserted. 

''But  I  don't  want  you  to  look  younger.  We  were 
a  very  good  match  for  each  other  as  we  were,  and  I 
don't  know  that  it  does  make  you  look  younger. 
Well,  well,  let  it  be  for  a  day  or  two  till  one  gets 
accustomed  to  the  change.  As  it  is,  it  doesn't  seem 
right  to  have  you,  of  all  women  in  the  world,  think- 
ing about  vanities." 

''Why  not?"  said  Regina  in  a  very  small  voice. 

At  that  moment  Julia  betook  herself  out  of  the 
room,  shutting  the  door  as  if  she  did  not  want  to 
hear  any  more  of  what  passed  between  her  parents. 

"Why  not?"  repeated  Regina. 

"Well,  they  don't  seem  to  be  in  keeping  with  you. 
One  never  thinks  of  you  as  having  nerves  or  the 
megrims,  of  being  offended  about  nothing  and  having 
to  be  coaxed  back  again  into  a  good  temper.  You 
are  the  kind  of  woman  one  gives  a  present  to  because 
one  desires  to  give  you  pleasure,  not  because  you  are 
to  be  made  to  forget  some  vexation  or  some  disap- 
pointment.   You  are  unlike  other  women,  Regina." 

And  Regina  immediately  decided  that  the  hussy 
was  a  person  of  moods! 


224  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE   STRAIGHT   AND   NARROW   PATH 

It  is  odd  that,  while  business  is  a  mantle  sufficiently  ample  to 
cover  a  whole  lifetime  of  sins,  we  usually  credit  any 
pastime  with  being  the  cloak  of  a  good  deal  of  wickedness. 

In  the  face  of  the  indisputable  fact  that  neither 
husband  nor  child  approved  of  the  change  she  had 
made  in  her  coiffure,  Regina  entered  upon  a  course 
of  what  can  only  be  called  complete  prevarication. 
The  following  day  she  rose  betimes  in  the  morning 
as  was  her  wont,  as  one  of  her  fixed  habits  was 
always,  under  all  circumstances  short  of  absolute  ill- 
ness, to  be  ready  for  breakfast  in  time  to  give  Alfred 
a  quiet  and  ample  meal.  She  had  from  the  very 
beginning  conceived  it  to  be  her  bare  duty  to  be  the 
one  to  speed  him  on  his  daily  quest  into  the  city, 
and  to  welcome  him  when  he  returned  to  his  home  in 
the  evening,  and  to  do  her  full  justice,  Regina  had 
rarely  failed  in  this  particular.  She  had  left  her 
children  more  or  less  to  shape  their  own  lives,  and 
being  of  extremely  dominant  personalities,  they  had 
shaped  them  accordingly — Maudie  in  the  direction 
of  the  soft,  domestic,  luxurious  type,  which  later  de- 
velopes  into  the  "feather  bed;"  Julia  in  a  keen,  alert, 
downright,  make-your-own-world-as-you-go  fashion. 
She  had  arranged  her  domestic  affairs  so  that  when 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  225 

she  took  up  the  regeneration  of  women  her  house- 
keeping arrangements  did  not  suffer  by  her  absence, 
and  as  I  have  said,  she  was  always  down  in  ample 
time  to  breakfast,  always  having  made  a  decently  be- 
coming toilette,  and  she  was  always  or  almost  always 
the  first  person  that  Alfred  saw  when  he  came  home 
again  in  time  for  dinner  On  this  occasion  she  knew 
it  would  be  impossible  for  her  to  arrange  her  hair  in 
a  new  and  unaccustomed  way  with  anything  like 
success  and  at  the  same  time  be  ready  at  the  usual 
breakfast  time.  So  she  merely  combed  her  hair  up 
and  twisted  it  into  a  knot  on  the  top  of  her  head.- 
Truth  to  tell,  it  was  much  more  becoming  than  any 
style  she  had  done  it  in  before,  though  less  elaborate 
than  the  arrangement  of  Madame  Florence.  She 
donned  a  plain  white  cambric  wrapper,  touched  her 
face  Avith  powder,  and  tied  a  broad  blue  ribbon  round 
her  waist,  bringing  the  bow  low  down,  and  pinning  it 
with  a  huge  brooch  at  a  point  about  six  inches  lower 
than  she  usually  wore  her  buckle.  In  the  past  one  of 
Regina's  landmarks  had  been  what  is  usually  called 
the  Holbein  curve,  and  the  mere  fact  of  pinning  her 
waist  ribbon  a  few  inches  lower  than  usual  was 
sufficient  to  transform  Regina  if  not  from  the 
ridiculous  to  the  sublime,  at  least  from  the  grotesque 
to  the  prevailing  mode.  She  was  already  in  the 
spacious  and  comfortable  dining-room  reading  her 
letters  when  Alfred  made  his  appearance. 

''Whew!"  he  said,  ''it's  going  to  be  a  blazing  hot 
day;  the  city  will  be  like  a  grill  room!" 

"And  I  suppose  you  are  too  busy  to  take  an  hour 
or  two  off?" 
15 


226  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

"Why,  do  you  want  me  to  go  anywhere T' 

''No,  I  was  thinking  it  would  be  good  for  you  if 
you  could  take  an  hour  or  two  off  and  get  a  little 
fresh  air." 

"Utterly  impossible,  my  dear.  With  any  other 
partner,  perhaps,  but  not  with  Chamberlain.  To  put 
it  plainly,  my  dear,  Chamberlain  put  in  the  money 
when  I  wanted  to  spread  myself,  and  I  did  spread 
myself.  The  experiment  was  a  success,  and  I  am 
saddled  with  Chamberlain  for  the  rest  of  my  natural 
life." 

"Is  he  no  help  to  youT'  said  Regina. 

"Well,  he  is  less  than  no  help.  I  think  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  suggest  taking  in  another  partner;  the 
business  is  too  big  now  to  have  the  whole  responsi- 
bility on  one  pair  of  shoulders.  I  must  have  a  holiday 
now  and  again — goodness  knows,  it  isn't  often  for  a 
man  of  my  substance — but  anything  like  the  muddle 
in  which  I  found  things  I  never  imagined  even 
Chamberlain  could  accomplish.  He's  a  dear  chap, 
too  full  of  apologies,  perfectly  aware  of  his  own 
shortcomings,  always  in  a  domestic  pickle — which 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at — but  as  a  partner  he  is 
hopeless." 

"My  poor  Alfred!"  said  Regina. 

"Ah,  you  may  well  say  that.  Of  course,  when  one 
just  comes  back  off  a  holiday,  one  doesn't  feel  like 
doing  collar  work  all  the  time,  all  uphill  and  no 
easement.  But  it  will  pass,  and  I  must  seriously  think 
of  taking  someone  else  in." 

' '  Have  you  anyone  in  your  eye  ? ' ' 

"Well,   of   course,    Tomkinson's   a   splendid   man. 


MRS.   WHITTAKER  227 

One  wouldn't  give  him  a  full  share,  wouldn't  make 
him  an  equal  exactly,  but  I  think  it  would  be  a  wise 
thing  if  we  were  to  make  him  a  junior  partner.  Be- 
sides that,  someone  else  might  get  hold  of  him;  he 
is  well  known  as  a  first-class  man." 

"I  should,  my  dear.  But  why  should  you  go  on 
working  and  toiling  like  thisi  If  you  were  to  realize, 
and  with  what  money  I  have  we  should  be  quite  com- 
fortable" 

' '  Oh  no,  oh  no,  thank  you,  Queenie,  not  while  I  am 
strong  and  well.  I  should  like  a  little  more  time  to 
myself;  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  run  over  to  Paris 
for  a  week  or  to  spend  a  few  days  by  the  seaside. 
I'm  thinking  of  taking  up  golf — I  began  to  take  an 
interest  in  the  game  at  Dieppe.  It's  good  for  the 
liver;  a  mild  craze  for  golf  has  saved  many  a  man 
from  an  attack  of  paralysis." 

''You  would  join  a  golf  club?" 

' '  Oh,  yes,  one  of  those  clubs  round  London. ' ' 

"And  you  would  get  an  afternoon  twice  a  week  or 
so?     Could  I — could — I  walk  round  with  you?" 

''Oh,  I  don't  think  so;  I  don't  think  they  allow 
ladies'  on  men's  golf  links.  No,  no,  if  you  want  to 
start  playing  yourself,  my  dear,  you  must  join  a 
ladies'  club  and  play  on  your  own.  It  would  be  good 
for  you." 

"Yes — it  would.  Won't  you  have  any  more 
coffee?" 

"No,  thanks.  I  may  be  late  for  dinner;  possibly  I 
may  not  be  able  to  get  back — I'll  send  you  a  wire. 
By  the  way,  when  we  leave  Ye  Dene  we  will  have  a 
telephone  put  up." 


228  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

' '  Yes, ' '  she  said,  ' '  it  would  be  most  convenient. ' ' 

For  some  time  after  he  had  caught  his  'bus  and 
gone  off  to  town  she  sat  thinking.  Golf,  two  after- 
noons a  week — that  would  mean  enjoyments  in  which 
she  could  take  no  part.  She  knew  she  was  growing 
suspicious — well,  she  had  enough  to  make  her  so. 
When  the  scales  fall  from  blind  eyes  the  eyes  are  not 
to  be  blamed  for  seeing.  Some  five  minutes  after 
Regina  had  come  to  this  conclusion  the  door  opened 
and  Julia  came  in. 

"All  alone,  ducky?"  she  remarked.  "Well,  I  am 
late.    I  'd  no  idea  daddy  was  gone. ' ' 

"Yes,  you  are  late,  or  I  fancy,  to  be  correct,  he  was 
unusually  early.  He  is  almost  killed  with  work — or  I 
should  say,  over-work.  However,  he  thinks  he  will 
get  things  straight  in  a  few  days  and  then  it  will  be  a 
little  easier." 

"Dear  daddy!  I  really  don't  see  what  use  Mr. 
Chamberlain  is  to  him,"  said  Julia,  holding  out  her 
hand  for  the  coffee  cup  which  her  mother  had  just 
filled. 

"No,  he  is  no  help  in  a  business  sense,  but  he  put 
the  money  into  the  concern.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  to-day,  Julia?" 

Julia  looked  up  in  unmitigated  astonishment. 
"To-day — oh — ah — I  shall  be  out  and  about  all 
day,"  she  returned  promptly. 

' '  I  rather  w^anted  you  to  go  to  town  with  me. ' ' 

"Awfully  sorry,  dear,  I  can't  go  to-day,"  Julia 
answered. 

Regina  felt  exactly  as  she  might  have  felt  if  some- 
one had  flung  a  pail  of  cold  water  in  her  face. 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  229 

*'I  was  going  to  the  West  End,"  she  said  half  hesi- 
tatingly. "I  thought  you  might  like  to  go  and  see 
this  new  milliner  of  mine. ' ' 

"I  should  have  loved  it,"  said  Julia,  "if  I  had 
known  before,  but  I've  made  several  engagements  for 
to-day." 

She  did  not  vouchsafe  any  information  as  to  her 
movements,  and  Regina  hastened  to  explain  things  for 
Julia. 

"You  are  going  with  one  of  the  Marksbys?" 

' '  No,  I  'm  not.  I  'm  going  to  lunch  at  the  club,  then 
I'm  going  to  do  a  little  shopping  and  later  I'm  going 
to  tea  with  the  Ponsonby-Piggots. " 

' '  Really !  Are  you  lunching  at  the  club  with  some- 
body?" 

' '  No,  I  've  somebody  lunching  with  me. ' ' 

Again  Regina  felt  that  curious  sensation  of  a 
douche  of  cold  water  administered  over  her  entire  per- 
son. Well,  she  had  brought  up  her  children  to  be 
independent,  to  have  wills,  caprices,  likes  and  dislikes 
of  their  o^vn,  she  could  not  blame  them  if  they  were 
not  of  the  clinging,  great-chum-with-mother  type 
which  she  would  have  preferred  them  to  be  at  this 
moment. 

"Suppose  we  make  it  a  fixture  for  the  day  after 
to-morrow?"  said  Julia,  helping  herself  to  more  deli- 
cate strips  of  bacon  from  the  covered  silver  dish  before 
her. 

"Yes,  certainly." 

' '  Shall  we  lunch  here  or  in  town  ? ' '  Julia  went  on. 

' '  Whichever  you  like. ' ' 

"Your  club  is  such  a  long  way,"  said  Julia,  with  a 


230  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

faint  accent  of  disparagement  in  her  tones;  "to  my 
mind  that  is  the  worst  of  professional  clubs;  they're 
always  so  ultra-professional  that  one  can't  find  a  cor- 
ner for  anything  at  all  fashionable.  Suppose  you 
come  and  lunch  with  me,  mother  dear?  If  you  are 
giving  up  your  societies  why  don't  you  join  a  good 
West-End  club?  You'd  find  it  so  useful,  living  out 
as  far  as  we  do. ' ' 

"I  think  I  must." 

*'I  shouldn't  recommend  mine.  It's  all  very  well 
for  me,  but  it's  a  cheap  little  club  and  it  wouldn't  do 
for  you.  Now,  why  don't  you  join  one  of  the  big  clubs 
in  Petticoat  Lane  ? ' ' 

"Petticoat  Lane!" 

*'0h — I  beg  your  pardon,  mummy,  I  meant  Dover 
Street.  There  are  half-a-dozen  of  them.  Shall  I  see 
if  I  can  get  your  name  put  up?  I  daresay  you  will 
have  to  wait  some  little  time.  Which  would  you  like 
— one  that  improves  your  mind  or  one  that  improves 
your  convenience?" 

* '  Certainly  not  one  that  improves  my  mind. ' ' 

* '  No,  I  think  you  are  quite  right ;  I  hate  clubs  where 
they  have  lectures  and  debates  and  other  beastly 
things  that  they  never  have  in  men's  clubs.  Now 
there's  the  Kaiserin,  that  would  suit  you  very  well: 
handsome  clubhouse,  excellent  cooking  arrangements, 
spacious  entertaining-room  which  you  can  hire  and 
have  all  to  yourself,  every  necessity  and  comfort  to 
make  a  club  thoroughly  comfy — in  fact,  a  second 
home  without  any  bother. ' ' 

"But  how  do  you  know?"  said  Eegina  in  a  curi- 
ously small  voice. 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  231 

' '  Oh,  I  know  several  women  who  belong  to  the  Kais- 
erin,"  Julia  answered  carelessly.  ''What  are  you 
going  to  do  to-day,  dearest?  Going  to  see  your  milli- 
ner again?" 

' '  No,  I  'm  going  to  have  my  hair  dressed ;  I  can 't  do 
it  properly  myself  for  a  few  days,  and  I  have  one  or 
two  other  things  to  do. ' ' 

Now  it  happened  that  of  the  one  or  two  other  things 
that  Regina  had  to  do,  the  most  important  was  a  visit 
to   the   distinguished   specialist   in   whose  hands   the 
fashionable  world  was  content  to  put  itself  with  a  view 
to  getting  rid  of  superfluous  tissue.     It  was  just  on 
the  stroke  of  noon  when  Regina  found  herself  walking 
across  Cavendish  Square  in  the  direction  of  that  street 
of  sighs  which  most  of  us  know,  alas !  too  well.     She 
was  kept  waiting  some  little  time,  but  the  dining-room 
in  which  she  spent  the  period  of  detention,  along  with 
three  other  ladies  much  fatter  than  herself,  was  cheer- 
ful, and  the  papers  were  of  the  newest  (which  is  not 
always  the  case,  let  me  remind  you,  in  the  houses  of 
medical  specialists).    At  last  her  turn  came  to  pene- 
trate to  the  sanctum  of  the  great  man.     Regina  was 
quite  nervous,  needlessly  so,  but  in  five  minutes  the 
bland  and  friendly  personality  whom  she  had  come  to 
consult  had  put  her  quite  at  ease.     She  was  weighed ! 
I  do  not  think  it  would  be  exactly  delicate  to  tell  you 
the  precise  weight  at  which  she  turned  the  scale,  but  I 
have  always  held  her  up  to  you  as  a  woman  of  that 
type  which  is  called  ''a  fine  figure." 

''Let  me  see,  you  want  to  get  rid  of  four  stones," 
said  the  doctor,  genially;  ''well,  that's  not  a  very 
severe  case.    It  will  take  you  four  or  five  months ;  you 


232  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

must  take  no  liberties  with  yourself  and  I  will  send 
you  a  card  this  evening  telling  you  exactly  what  you 
may  and  may  not  eat  and  drink.  You  must  live  by 
the  card,  literally  by  the  card.  Remember,  no  vagar- 
ies, no  irregularities,  no  coquetting  with  the  '  one  time 
that  never  hurts  one. '  You  must  make  up  your  mind 
that  you  will  give  up  your  own  will  until  you  have 
reached  the  required  standard,  and  believe  me,  dear 
lady,  you  will  be  a  happier  woman,  a  healthier  woman 
and  a  handsomer  woman  when  you  have  attained  your 
object." 

Regina  wrote  a  check  and  went  out  into  the  sun- 
light, out  of  the  land  of  liberty  and  into  the  straight 
and  narrow  path  of  a  strict  and  severe  regime. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  233 


CHAPTER    XXVII 
ROUND  evp:rywpiere 

Young  eyes  see  so  clearly  that  we  must  often  be  very  thankful 
that  young  people  do  not  have  the  deciding  voice  in  our 
lives. 

Regina  duly  received  the  promised  card  or  diet 
sheet.  I  may  say  that  she  took  it  from  its  enveloping 
wrapper  with  a  certain  feeling  of  mystery  akin  to 
awe,  and  she  studied  its  items  carefully.  Its  direc- 
tions were  many  and  explicit;  it  not  only  gave  the 
foods  which  she  might  eat,  but  also  the  foods  which 
she  might  not  eat,  the  drinks  she  might  take  and 
the  drinks  she  might  not  take,  and  it  gave  the 
weights  of  each  portion  and  the  number  of  each 
special  biscuit.  Acting  according  to  the  instructions 
from  the  specialist,  Regina  had  ordered  a  sufficient 
quantity  of  the  specially  prepared  diet  biscuits  which 
were  part  of  the  regime,  and  it  occurred  to  her,  when 
the  parcel  arrived  a  little  later  than  the  diet  sheet 
reached  her^  that  she  would  have  to  account  to  her 
husband  and  family  for  the  startling  change  in  her 
diet.  Now,  Regina  was  perfectly  sure  of  one  thing: 
that  she  would  be  most  unwise  to  tell  Alfred  the 
exact  nature  of  the  regime  on  which  she  was  about 
to  start.     She  felt  that  a  wife  who  was  taking  elab- 


234  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

orate  means,  and  undergoing  great  self-sacrifice,  put- 
ting herself  into  prison,  so  to  speak,  for  the  sole  and 
express  purpose  of  thinning  herself  down,  would 
show  to  great  disadvantage  beside  a  person  of  the 
plump  order  who  was  probably  twenty  years  her 
junior,  and  able  to  peck  greedily  at  the  most  fattening 
kinds  of  food.  So  Regina  entered  upon  a  course  of 
what  I  may  call  harmless  prevarication. 

''I  have  something  to  tell  you,  dear  Alfred,"  she 
said  that  evening  when  he  had  well  dined  and  had 
not  noticed  that  she  had  passed  about  half  the  items 
of  dinner ;  "  I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you. ' ' 

"Yes,  my  dear  girl,  about  having  a  celebration  of 
the  home-coming?  Oh  yes,  you  would  wish  it,  and, 
of  course  it  was  arranged  before  the  wedding." 

"No,  it  is  about  myself." 

"Yourself,  dearest?     And  what  about  yourself?" 

"Alfred,  I  have  not  been  feeling  myself  lately." 

""VMiy — how — what  d'yon  mean?  You're  not  ill, 
are  you?" 

"Well,  not  exactly  ill;  I  can't  truthfully  say  that; 
yet  I've  not  been  myself,  I've  not  felt  myself,  I've 
not  looked  myself — " 

"No,  I've  noticed  how  very  much  paler  you  have 
grown ;  you  seem  to  have  lost  your  nice  fresh  color. ' ' 

She  had  lost  her  nice  fresh  color ;  it  had  disappeared 
with  the  advent  of  the  powder  box,  and  Alfred  had 
not,  to  use  a  very  slang  phrase,  dropped  down  to 
the  fact. 

"Well,  I  don't  believe  in  leaving  these  things  to 
mend  themselves,"  Regina  went  on,  busily  pleating 
and  unpleating  the  deep  black  lace  which  adorned 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  235 

the  sleeves  of  her  handsome  tea-gown,  "it's  better  to 
stop  anything  of  that  sort  at  the  outset. 

''Well,  you've  been  to  a  doctor T' 

**Yes,  I've  been  strongly  advised  to  go  to  Dr. 
Money-Berry  in  Harley  Street.  You  see,  I've  got  so 
very  stout  lately,  Alfred,  and  he  thinks  my  having 
gained  in  weight  has  put  me  all  wrong.  My  heart  is 
very  feeble — compared  with  what  it  used  to  be." 

''My— dear!  Ough!  Tut,  tut,  tut— think  of  our 
going  on  and  living  our  ordinary  life  and  all  the  time 
you  are  suffering — it's  dreadful  to  think  of." 

''Well,  not  exactly  suffering;  I'm  not  quite  an 
invalid.  Dr.  Money-Berry  advised  me  to  live  very 
carefully  during  the  next  few  months;  he  thinks  I 
shall  be  all  right  if  I  leave  off  starchy  foods — they 
are  so  bad  for  the  valves  of  the  heart  and — and  I 
don't  want  to  leave  you,  Alfred,"  she  said  in  a 
pathetic  little  voice. 

"Good  heavens!  Go  away  and  leave  me!  What 
are  you  talking  of,  Queeniel  If  you  were  to  go 
away  and  leave  me — for  another  man — I  should  blow 
my  brains  out, ' '  and  here  he  began  to  walk  about  the 
room.    "And  if  I  didn't,  I  should  go  to  the  devil." 

I  am  ashamed  to  record  that  there  arose  in  Regina's 
mind  a  picture  of  Alfred,  her  noble  Alfred !  going 
headlong  to  the  devil  w^ith  a  hussy  of  plump  pro- 
portions. 

Alfred  continued  excitedly,  "And  if  you  were  to 
leave  me  in  the  other  sense — I  don't  know  what  I 
should  do." 

"Dear  Alfred,  you  would  probably  marry  again," 
•.he  observed  quietly. 


236  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

''Never — never!  Put  that  thought  out  of  your 
mind  once  and  for  all.  I  should  live  out  the  rest  of 
my  life  as  best  I  could — but  I  really  can't  talk  about 
it.  You  were  perfectly  right  to  go  to  a  specialist, 
and  you  must  follow  out  his  treatment  to  the  very 
letter.  Now,  promise  me  you  will  do  everything  he 
tells  you,  take  all  the  medicine  he  gives  you,  and  live 
by  line  and  rule  until  he  tells  you  that  you  are  really 
out  of  danger." 

The  heart  of  Regina  was  sick  within  her.  She 
knew  she  was  deceiving  Alfred ;  she  felt  herself  to  be 
the  basest  and  blackest  and  most  ungrateful  woman 
that  had  ever  been  born  into  the  world,  and  yet,  she 
told  herself,  her  deception  was  a  harmless  one,  that 
if  she  was  sinning  against  him,  she  was  sinning  to 
a  good  end.  And  so  Regina  entered  upon  her  course 
of  penal  servitude,  for  I  can  call  it  nothing  more  or 
less.  The  same  explanation  which  was  given  to 
Alfred  was  given  to  Julia,  and  henceforth  Regina, 
although  she  ate  at  the  same  table,  ate  alone.  She 
did  not  in  any  v/ay  attempt  to  curtail  the  meals  of 
her  husband  and  child,  but  supplied  the  table  in 
exactly  the  usual  manner. 

"Why  do  you  buy  salmon  when  you  can't  touch  it 
yourself  ? ' '  Alfred  asked  over  and  over  again. 

' '  Because  you  work  hard  and  want  your  meals.  If 
you  had  the  same  necessity  for  living  as  I  do,  I  should 
keep  you  up  to  it." 

''I  don't  believe  you  would  buy  salmon  for  your- 
self," said  Alfred,  almost  vexedly;  "it  must  be  a 
temptation  to  you,  so  fond  of  it  as  you  are" 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  237 

"Oh,  no,  because  I  have  an  object  in  view  Believe 
me,  I  often  have  sweetbreads  for  lunch." 

"But  you  do  not  fling  them  in  my  face  at  dinner; 
that  is  quite  another  matter." 

So  the  martyrdom  went  on,  and  Regina's  figure 
became  smaller  by  degrees  and  beautifully  less. 
When  she  had  been  dieting  for  about  two  months  she 
had  lost  a  couple  of  stones  in  weight.  She  had  a 
couple  of  smart  gowns  from  Madame  d'Estelle  in 
which  she  had  allowed  that  adroit  lady  free  play  for 
her  taste  and  imagination.  The  result  was  that  she 
gradually  presented  to  the  eyes  of  her  family  a 
subdued  and  refined  Regina,  much  more  attractive  to 
the  outer  world,  but  not  the  Regina  to  whom  the 
inhabitants  of  Ye  Dene  had  been  accustomed. 

It  was  about  two  months  from  the  beginning  of 
Regina's  martyrdom  that  Alfred  Whittaker  began  to 
be  aware  that  his  wife  was  losing  flesh.  "My  dear," 
he  said  one  morning,  as  he  sat  opposite  his  wife  at 
the  breakfast-table,  "I'm  not  quite  satisfied  with  that 
doctor  of  yours." 

"AYhy  not,  dear?" 

"AYhy,  I  don't  think  he's  doing  well  by  you." 

"But  I  am  so  much  better." 

"You   don't   look   it;   you're   half   the   size   you 


were. ' ' 


"Oh,  no,  Alfred!     There's  still  plenty  of  me." 
"You  are  much  smaller,  and  since  you  have  taken 
to  wearing  black  and   indefinable  gray  gowns,  you 
seem  to  be  wasting  away  to  nothing.     When  is  it 
goins:  to  stop?" 

"AMien  he  is  satisfied  that  I  am  just  the  right 


238  THE   LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

weight.  I  am  much  stronger,  Alfred;  I  can  walk 
miles ! ' ' 

''Can  you?  Well,  I  don't  know  that  it  is  necessary 
for  you  to  walk  miles;  you  can  afford  to  take  a  cab 
whenever  you  want  one." 

''Yes,  dear,  but  I  am  much  better." 

"I  know  you  say  so,  and  you've  been  awfully 
plucky  about  your  diet  and  so  on,  but  when  is  it 
going  to  end?  I  don't  want  a  wife  like  a  thread 
paper." 

Julia  had  come  into  the  room  while  he  was  speak- 
ing. "Dear  daddy,"  she  said,  "you're  very  dense. 
Mother's  getting  vain  in  her  old  age.  She's  got  a 
French  milliner,  she's  got  a  French  dressmaker,  she 
does  her  hair  a  new  way,  and  she's  getting  her 
figure  back  again.  She's  quite  a  new  woman,  she's 
given  up  working  for  womanhood  generally,  and  she 's 
getting  frivolous.  She's  got  a  club — I  mean  a  real 
club — in  the  West  End,  and  one  of  these  days  she's 
going  to  give  a  dinner  party  and  ask  you  and  me 
to  it." 

"Well,  well,  well,  if  you're  quite  sure  you  are  not 
doing  anything  foolish,"  said  Alfred  Whittaker;  "I 
only  want  you  to  be  happy  in  your  own  way.  But  I 
want  you  to  be  quite  sure  that  you  are  not  doing 
anything  foolish  It's  not  natural  for  a  woman  of 
your  age  to  be  starved  down  to  skin  and  bone. ' ' 

"My  dear  Alfred!  Think  of  the  breakfast  I  have 
made  this  morning;  I  have  had  twice  as  much  as 
you." 

"I  rather  doubt  that,*'  said  Alfred,  patting  himself 
in  the  region  he  had  just  filled,  ' '  I  rather  doubt  that. 


JVmS.    WHITTAKER  239 

But  I  should  be  more  satisfied  if  you  went  to  a  heart 
specialist.  Who  is  Dr.  Money-Berry?  What's  his 
line?" 

''He  is  a  specialist,"  said  Regina,  with  an  air,  "on 
all  matters  connected  with  the  internal  organs  above 
the  belt,  and  those  bound  in  the  chains  of  fatty  degen- 
eration of  the  heart,  he  sets  free.  To  those  whoso 
food  does  not  digest  properly,  he  seems  able  to  give 
a  new  digestion.  I  have  full  faith  in  his  integrity  and 
his  skill,  and  I  beg,  dear  Alfred,  that  you  will  not 
worry  yourself.  I  am  quite  a  new  woman,  regener- 
ated, rejuvenated." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  you  are  getting  so  thin." 

' '  And  don 't  you  like  me  better  thinner  ? ' ' 

"No,  I  couldn't  like  you  better,  that's  impossible, 
but  if  you  are  better  in  health  for  being  thinner  it's 
all  very  well.  But  if  you  are  going  on  reducing 
yourself  to  a  miserable  skeleton  nothing  will  make  me 
believe  it  is  good  for  you  or  make  me  declare  I  admire 
you,  for  I  never  shall. ' ' 

After  he  had  gone  she  sat  with  a  flushed  and  uneasy 
expression  on  her  smooth  face.  As  the  gate  clicked 
behind  her  father's  departing  form  Julia  burst  into 
laughter. 

"Lor',  mother,"  she  said,  "how  can  you  bamboozle 
poor  daddy  as  you  do  ? " 

"Julia!" 

"Yes,  I  mean  it.  Poor  daddy  doesn't  see  one  inch 
before  his  nose,  and  jovl  are  a  sensible  woman.  You 
let  him  think  that  Dr.  Money-Berry  is  a  specialist  for 
fat  round  the  heart." 

"What  do  vou  mean?" 


240  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OP 

''Well,  Dr.  Money-Berry  is  a  specialist  for  fat 
round  everywhere,  whom  fashionable  women  go  to 
to  have  their  figures  made  sylph-like.  If  Dr.  Money- 
Berry  depended  upon  cases  of  heart  trouble  he 
wouldn't  hang  out  very  long  in  Harley  Street,  and 
nobody  knows  that  better  than  you,  mother." 

''Julia!" 

"But,"  Julia  continued,  "you've  changed  im- 
mensely during  the  last  few  months.  I  don't  know 
what  made  you  throw  up  your  societies  and  try  to 
make  yourself  into  a  mere  domestic  woman;  but  you 
have  regenerated  yourself,  that's  true  enough." 

' '  I  was  too  fat,  Julia ;  it  was  not  wholesome. ' ' 

"You  were  not  more  fat  than  you  had  been  for  the 
last  ten  years.  I  never  remember  you  so  thin  as  you 
are  now.  You  have  changed  your  milliner,  you  have 
changed  your  dressmaker,  you  do  your  hair  a  new 
way — you  are  a  totally  different  woman,  and  I  think 
daddy  is  quite  right  when  he  asks,  'Where  is  it  going 
to  end?'" 


MES.    WHITTAKER  241 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

A  REJUVENATED  REGINA 

How   one  admires   a   woman   who   takes   an   unexpected   facer 
without  making  a  scene ! 

Regina  had  come  to  the  end  of  her  period  of  martyr- 
dom. Her  weight  was  ten  stones  seven  pounds,  her 
waist  was  twenty-five  inches.  Her  family  had  grown 
used  to  what  both  father  and  daughter  stigmatized  as 
''mother's  little  vanities."  She  was  now  a  radiantly 
healthy,  pleasing,  well-dressed  person  of  comely, 
middle-aged  womanhood.  It  is  true  that  she  was 
hopelessly  dependent  upon  Madame  d'Estelle  for  her 
taste  in  dress  and  upon  Madame  Clementine  for  her 
choice  of  millinery.  She  was  still  an  excellent  cus- 
tomer at  The  Dressing-Room,  and  went  there  regu- 
larly to  have  her  luxuriant  hair  brushed  and  waved 
in  the  fashion  to  which  Alfred  AYhittaker  and  Julia 
no  longer  raised  any  objection.  She  had  started  a 
day  at  her  club  so  that  friends  at  a  distance  might 
take  a  cup  of  tea  with  her  without  journeying  out  to 
Northampton  Park.  She  was  not  yet  the  chaperon  of 
her  daughter,  for  her  daughter  had  long  ago  got  into 
the  habit  of  arranging  her  own  life,  but  she  was 
fully   convinced    that   the    new   ways   were    a    wide 

16 


242  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

advance  upon  the  old  ways,  and  nothing  would  have 
induced  her  to  go  back  to  her  original  state  of  be- 
nighted self-sufficiency.  Never  had  Regina  Whittaker 
known  herself  so  thoroughly  as  since  she  had  become 
aware  of  the  existence  of  the  hussy.  And  yet,  it  must 
be  confessed  that  although  she  had  absolutely  remod- 
eled her  life,  changed  her  way  of  being,  taken  a  new 
standpoint  from  which  to  look  out  upon  the  world, 
she  was  no  nearer  the  consummation  of  her  dearest 
hopes,  she  was  no  more  certain  than  she  had  been  six 
months  before  that  the  heart  of  Alfred  was  indisput- 
ably hers  and  hers  alone. 

*'You  are  going  to  dine  in  town  again !*'  she  said 
to  him  one  dreary  winter  morning. 

"My  dear  girl,  you  may  rest  assured  that  I  should 
not  dine  in  town  if  there  were  the  ghost  of  a  chance 
of  my  being  able  to  get  my  dinner  here,  but  I  shall 
not  be  back  till  late,  and  I  don't  know  why  you  and 
the  child  should  ruin  your  dinner  because  I  can't  get 
back  in  reasonable  time." 

•'But  Maudie  and  Harry  are  coming." 

"I  can't  help  that;  you  must  explain  to  them.  My 
dear  girl,  there's  such  a  lot  at  stake  just  now  that  I 
simply  dare  not  leave  it  to  chance.  Come,  come,  be 
reasonable.  One  would  think, ' '  and  he  smiled  benevo- 
lently down  upon  her,  "that  we  were  a  young  couple 
like  our  turtle  doves,  and  that  one  could  not  dine 
without  the  other.  I  admit  that  I  shall  not  enjoy  it 
so  much. ' ' 

"Shall  you  not?" 

"Now,  how  can  I?  Probably  there  isn't  a  man  in 
London  who  is  fonder  of  his  home  than  I  am,  but  at 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  243 

the  same  time  one  wants  to  do  the  right  thing  by 
one's  home  as  well  as  to  enjoy  it." 

''But,  Alfred,  you  don't  wish  me  to  understand 
that  the  firm  is  in  difficulties  ? ' ' 

''No,  no,  not  in  the  sense  you  mean,  but  in  another 
sense  it  is.  The  fact  is,  Queenie,  I  must  stick  to  the 
ship  now  at  whatever  inconvenience  to  myself." 

"And  to  me,"  said  Regina. 

"Well,  dearest,  and  to  you.  But,  come  now,  you 
are  a  strong-minded  woman,  you  know  how  many 
beans  make  five  as  well  as  any  woman  I  have  ever 
met— better  than  most.  I've  got  myself  tied  up  with 
the  biggest  ass  in  London,  whether  he's  going  out  of 
his  great  mind,  or  whether  he 's  going  to  continue  on, 
a  danger  to  everyone  with  whom  he  comes  in  touch, 
I  don't  know.  The  fact  is,  he's  not  mad  enough  to 
be  shut  up  in  a  lunatic  asylum  and  he's  not  sane 
enough  to  be  allowed  to  come  and  go  as  he  likes. ' ' 

' '  But  you  took  in  Tompkinson  to  relieve  you. ' ' 

"And  so  he  will  in  time,  but  he  isn't  the  head  of 
the  firm  and  I  am.  He 's  a  splendid  man  and  I  should 
have  been  furious  if  any  other  house  in  the  same  line 
had  got  hold  of  him;  at  the  same  time  you  can't 
expect  a  man  to  take  my  place  in  the  first  six  months 
of  becoming  a  partner;  it  wouldn't  be  reasonable, 
particularly  as  Chamberlain  is  such  a  difficult  card  to 
handle." 

"And  where  are  you  dining?"  said  Regina. 

"Well,  to-night  I've  got  to  dine  possibly  at  the 
Criterion  and  talk  over  a  business  matter  that 
Chamberlain  has  let  himself  in  for,  and  which  he  is 
most  anxious  to  get  clear  of  with  as  little  publicity 


244  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

and  fuss  as  possible.  Of  course  the  situation  with  his 
wife  is  very  difficult ;  she  is  a  jealous,  absurd,  sensitive 
woman,  and  he  makes  her  a  shocking  bad  husband. 
It 's  a  pity  he  was  not  born  to  be  a  clerk  with  a  pound 
a  week,  to  have  to  keep  his  nose  down  to  the  grind- 
stone to  provide  board  and  lodging;  then  he  would 
have  managed  to  keep  himself  straight.  I  shall  get 
things  straightened  out  in  a  few  months  if  I  can 
manage  it,  and  then  we  will  take  that  trip  South  that 
we  were  talking  about.  You'd  like  that,  wouldn't 
you?" 

*'I  shall  be  happy  anywhere  with  you." 

"We'll  take  that  trip  South,  it  will  do  you  good, 
and  it  will  be  a  heaven-sent  holiday  for  me,  but  I 
can't  go  as  things  are  now,  and  you  mustn't  worry 
until  I  have  got  matters  into  something  like  order." 

"You  are  sure  we  are  not  spending  too  much 
money  1 ' ' 

"Oh  no,  no,  no,  it  isn't  a  question  of  money,  but 
in  one  way  it's  a  question  of  business.  Now  I  must 
be  off." 

It  happened  that  Julia  had  been  listening  during 
the  entire  conversation.  "I  say,  mother,"  she  said, 
"if  daddy  is  not  coming  home  to  dinner,  why  give 
Harry  and  Maudie  the  fag  of  coming  out  here? 
Let's  go  and  dine  at  the  Trocadero  and  do  a  theatre 
afterward;  it  isn't  often  that  you  and  I  have  the 
chance  of  getting  off  on  the  loose  by  ourselves.  We 
could  easily  send  a  wire  or  I  could  run  over  and  see 
Maudie,  and  she  could  'phone  to  Harry  from  their 
house. ' ' 

"Yes,  that's  a  very  good  idea,"  said  Regina,  who 


MRS.    AVHITTAKER  245 

certainly  did  not  want  to  sit  at  her  own  table  in  the 
absence  of  her  lord  and  master  and  explain  the  exact 
circumstances  of  his  absence.  "You'd  better  wire,  or 
— no — you  might  run  over. ' ' 

"Then  I'll  lunch  with  Maudie." 

' '  All  right.    We  '11  dine  at  seven  o  'clock. ' ' 

"What  theatre  shall  we  go  to?" 

"You  can  settle  that  with  Maudie,  can't  you? 
Then  you  can  'phone  from  her  house  to  any  theatre 
you  want  to  go  to. ' ' 

"Very  good.  Do  you  know,  mother,  I  think  daddy 
is  very  worried.  I  wonder  why  everything  seems  to 
be  ]Mr.  Chamberlain ;  our  house  seems  to  be  dominated 
by  Mr.  Chamberlain.  I  don't  know  why  daddy  doesn't 
get  rid  of  him :  he 's  no  good  to  anybody. ' ' 

"Ah,  that's  easier  said  than  done  with  a  partner  of 
any  kind.  Mr.  Chamberlain  may  be  a  little  wrong  in 
his  head,  but  he  knows  right  enough  when  he  is  in  for 
a  good  thing;  it's  no  use  thinking  about  that,  so  we 
may  as  well  make  the  best  of  it. ' ' 

So  at  seven  o'clock  a  well-dressed  and  extremely 
happy  quartette  arrived  in  pairs  at  the  Trocadero  and 
took  up  a  position  at  a  table  in  the  gallery.  The  din- 
ner was  excellent,  the  music  was  alluring,  the  com- 
pany was  abundant  and  well-dressed,  and  Regina, 
released  from  the  thraldom  of  Dr.  ^lon'^y-Berry.  was 
at  liberty  to  eat  whatever  came  in  due  course.  Harry 
Marksby  had  chosen  the  champagne,  and  all  was 
merry  as  a  marriage  bell,  when  suddenly  Julia  made 
a  remark,  "AVhy,  there's  daddy,"  she  said,  looking 
over  the  balustrade. 

Regina  looked  in  the  opposite  direction.     "Really! 


246  THE   LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

he  said  he  was  going  to  dine  at  the  Criterion  or  some- 
where.   I  suppose  his  friend  preferred  to  come  here. ' ' 

' '  His  friend  is  a  lady, ' '  said  Julia. 

Regina's  heart  gave  a  sick  throb,  her  eyes  followed 
the  direction  of  Julia's  gaze,  and  the  next  instant  she 
beheld  her  noble  Alfred  sitting  with  his  elbow  on  the 
table  talking  earnestly  to  a  young  and  pretty  woman. 

"Don't  faint,  darling,"  said  Julia  in  a  soft  under- 
tone. 

"I'm  not  in  the  least  likely  to  faint,"  said  Regina, 
with  superb  dignity.  "Doubtless  your  father  will 
give  a  perfectly  simple  explanation  of  his  being  here 
with  a  lady.  Thank  you,  Harry,  I  will  have  a  little 
more  champagne." 

Oh,  she  was  a  plucky  woman,  Regina  Whittaker! 
It  was  not  in  her  nature  to  show  the  white  feather! 
Her  suspicions  had  crystallized  themselves  into 
human  form.  There  was  the  hussy  who  had  haunted 
her  for  months  past,  there  she  was  in  the  flesh !  *  *  And 
I  must  say,"  said  Regina  to  her  own  heart,  "that 
Alfred  does  not  look  as  if  he  were  enjoying  himself. ' ' 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  247 


CHAPTER    XXIX 


WARY    AND    PATIENT 


As   a  rule,  especially  in  the  greater  issues   of   life,   little  or 
nothing  is  to  be  gained  by  precipitancy. 

During  the  rest  of  the  dinner  Regina  made  a  val- 
iant effort  to  appear  as  thoroughly  at  ease  as  if  the 
portly  gentleman  down  below  was  no  kith  or  kin  of 
hers.  When  she  had  once  pulled  herself  together  and 
realized  the  worst,  she  became  the  life  and  soul  of  the 
table,  and  Regina,  mind  you,  was  a  woman  of  intel- 
lect, a  woman  of  wit,  when  it  pleased  her  to  exert  her- 
self in  that  respect.  She  did  not  again  allude  to  the 
fact  that  her  husband  was  dining  under  the  same  roof 
as  hei'self ,  until  they  made  a  move,  intending  to  go  to 
the  theatre.  Then  ]\Iaudie,  who  was  not  endowed  with 
much  tact,  demurred  at  leaving  without  making  their 
presence  known  to  her  father. 

' '  I  must  go  and  speak  to  daddy, ' '  she  said. 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Regina  in  a  fierce 
whisper,  "nothing  of  the  kind;  I  absolutely  forbid  it. 
Harry,  you  will  back  me  up  in  this  ? ' ' 

Her  tone  was  one  of  anxious  entreaty,  and  Harry 
Marksby,  who  had  been  rather  a  gay  dog  in  his  very 
young  days,  although  always  tempered  with  a  lai'ge 
amount  of  common-sense  which  had  saved  him  from 


248  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

getting  into  a  hole,  took  in  his  mother-in-law's  mean- 
ing at  a  glance. 

"No,  you  can't  go  downstairs  now,  my  dear,"  he 
said,  giving  her  a  vigorous  nudge  with  his  elbow,  and 
Maudie,  without  in  the  least  understanding,  took  the 
hint  and  said  no  more.  "We'll  meet  you  at  the  the- 
atre," he  added. 

So  presently  Regina  found  herself  sitting  in  a  han- 
som with  Julia  beside  her. 

' '  I  say,  mother, ' '  said  Julia,  as  the  cab  started  from 
the  doorway,  "that  was  a  little  awkward,  wasn't  it? 
And  how  silly  of  Maudie !  I  really  thought  she  had 
more  sense." 

"Not  one  word  of  this  to  your  father,"  said  Mrs. 
Whittaker  in  the  same  tone  of  fierce  repression. 
"You  children  are  quite  mistaken,  I  understand  it 
perfectly.  You  will  not  speak  to  your  father  of  our 
having  seen  him?  He  would  not  be  able  to  explain 
the  circumstances  to  you." 

"Oh,  certainly,  not  if  you  don't  wish  it,  darling. 
You'd  better  tell  Harry  to  give  Maudie  warning  be- 
cause she's  sure  to  blab  it  out.    Who  is  she?" 

"I  don't  know  what  her  name  is,"  said  Regina; 
"she  is  a  person  your  father  has  some  business  with — 
business  connected  with  the  firm,"  she  added,  with  a 
dexterity  of  explanation  which  astounded  even  her- 
self. ' '  I  have  known  of  her  existence  for  some  time ; 
your  father  has  been  almost  worried  out  of  his  life 
about  it,  and  it  would  worry  him  much  more  if  he 
thought  you  children  misconstrued  his  actions. ' ' 

"Oh,  well,  I  suppose  daddy  is  perfectly  at  liberty  to 
do  as  he  likes  as  long  as  he  makes  matters  clear  to 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  249 

you.    We  have  no  right  to  dictate  who  he  shall  take 
to  the  Trocadero  to  dine.^' 

"My  dear  child — my  precious  child — "  said  Re- 
gina  almost  breaking  down,  but  recovering  herself 
with  a  snap  as  it  were.  Then  she  went  on  in  the  same 
fierce  tone,  "I  shall  not  forget  this,  Julia,  my  darling; 
one  can  always  rely  on  you  in  a  moment  of  emergency, 
:\Iaudie  has  not  half  your  sound  common-sense— she 's 
a  feather  head  compared  to  you. 

"Oh,  she'll  be  all  right.  You  tip  Harry  thi- 
wink — ' ' 

"What!" 

"Oh!  I  beg  your  pardon,  mummy,  I  forgot.  Shall 
I  tell  Harry  to  stop  :\raudie  blabbing?" 

"I  wish  you  would.  You  might  explain  to  him  a 
little.  Now,  here  we  are,  here  we  are,  now  don't  let 
us  speak  of  it  again;  it's  all  much  more  simple  than 
you  children  think. ' ' 

Now  it  happened  that  on  the  way  down  to  the  the- 
atre, Harry  Marksby  had  given  Maudie  a  hint,  or,  as 
Julia  would  have  put  it,  tipped  her  the  wink,  to  say 
nothing:  whatever  about  what  had  occurred. 

"I  don't  understand  why,"  she  had  replied.  "Why 
should  daddy  be  dining  with  that  bold-looking  woman 
when  mother  thought  he  was  dining  with  a  friend  at 
the  Criterion?" 

"Well,  you  can't  tell.  As  long  as  your  mother 
doesn't  want  it  spoken  of,  it's  no  business  of  ours. 
Now,  hold  your  tonsrue.  ^Maudie  darling;  I  rely  upon 
you  not  to  say  a  word,  you'll  only  upset  everybody's 
apple-cart  if  you  do. ' ' 

''Well,  I'm  not  likely  to  say  anything  against  my 


250  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

own  father.  All  the  same,"  said  Maudie,  with  the 
suspicion  of  a  pout,  "  I  do  think  that  father  ought  to 
feel  it  incumbent  upon  him  not  to  disgrace  us  in  pub- 
lic places.  If  he  was  only  dining  with  a  friend  why 
couldn't  I  go  and  speak  to  him — I'm  his  own  child? 
And  if  he  was  dining  with  somebody  he  wouldn't  like 
to  take  home — " 

"And  you  can  bet  your  bottom  dollar  he  wouldn't," 
said  Harry. 

' '  Then  I  think  he  ought  to  give  an  account  of  him- 
self." 

''Oh  yes,  I  know,  that's  justice,  man's  justice. 
Come,  come,  come,  Mrs.  Harry  Marksby,"  said  Harry 
in  a  tone  of  cheerful  warning;  "and  here  we  are  at 
the  theatre.  Now,  don't  say  a  word  to  your  mother, 
she 's  upset  enough,  poor  old  lady. ' ' 

Now,  as  Mrs.  Whittaker  had  dined  the  little  party, 
it  became  Harry's  pleasing  duty  to  give  them  supper, 
and  from  the  theatre  they  went  to  a  certain  fashion- 
able supper-room,  again  by  means  of  a  couple  of  han- 
soms. This  time  it  was  Julia  who  shared  the  hansom 
of  her  brother-in-law. 

"Now,  look  here,  Harry,"  she  said,  "for  goodness' 
sake  don't  say  anything  about  having  seen  daddy  to- 
night." 

"Why,  what  do  you  take  me  for?  Do  you  think  I 
was  born  yesterday — or  the  day  after  to-morrow  1 ' ' 

"But  mother  says  she  knows  all  about  it,  and  that 
it's  much  more  simple  than  we  think,  and  she  thinks 
that  Maudie  will  go  blabbing  it  out. ' ' 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  I  have  given  her  a  hint 
already.     At  the  same   time,   I   think  your   father 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  251 

ought  to — well — ought  to  make  things  a  little  more 


secure. ' ' 


"Yes,  I  know,  but  he  had  not  the  least  idea  that 
we  were  dining  out  to-night;  it  was  quite  an 
impromptu  arrangement  and  daddy  might  be  vexed 
if  Maudie  said  anything  to  him  about  it — 'We  saw 
you  dining  with  a  lady  the  other  night  '—you  know, 
that  sort  of  thing." 

"Is  he — um — um — " 

"What  do  you  mean  by  um — V 

"Is  he  touchy r' 

' '  Oh  no,  take  him  all  round  he  is  the  most  amiable 
person  I  know;  but  there  are  limits  to  every  man's 
patience,  and  if  daddy  is  bothered  with  the  firm's 
business,  as  mother  seems  to  imply,  it  might  vex 
him;  besides,  mother  doesn't  wish  it  mentioned,  and 
that's  enough;  he's  her  husband." 

' '  And,  Julia, ' '  said  Harry  Marksby,  as  they  drove 
up  to  the  door  of  the  restaurant,  "if  every  w^oman 
was  as  wise  as  your  mother,  there  wouldn't  be  much 
domestic  broiling  to  worry  the  world. ' '  And  then  he 
jumped  out  and  held  out  his  hand  for  Julia  to  alight. 

Regina  behaved  admirably  at  this  juncture;  she 
kept  it  up,  she  made  a  very  good  supper;  but  then, 
you  know,  that  was  one  of  Regina 's  excellent  quali- 
ties ;  when  in  tribulation  her  appetite  did  not  fail  her. 
Finally  Regina  and  Julia  drove  down  to  the  nearest 
station  on  the  district  railway  and  took  train  for  the 
Park.    They  found  Mr.  Whittaker  already  come  in. 

"W^ell,  dearest,"  he  said,  as  they  rustled  into  the 
dining-room  where  he  was  sitting  reading,  "you 
never  told  me  you  were  going  to  galavant. 


252  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

"No;  for,  you  see,  we  took  it  into  our  heads  that 
we  would  go  to  a  theatre,  and  then  Harry  and  Maudie 
gave  us  supper  at  the  Golden  Butterfly  afterwards. 
AVe  have  had  a  great  time,  haven't  we,  Juie?" 

"A  great  time,"  said  Julia.  "I  like  a  little  supper 
after  a  theatre,  it  always  seems  so  dull,  bundling  out 
and  scrambling  off  to  one's  train.  And  how  long 
have  you  been  home,  daddy?" 

"Oh,  ever  so  long;  I  got  home  before  ten.  And 
what  theatre  did  you  go  tot" 

Regina  explained,  and  Alfred  mixed  her  a  little 
whisky-and-soda,  and  Julia  said  she  would  go  to  bed, 
for  she  was  dead  beat,  and  so  on;  and  still  Regina 
said  nothing  beyond  throwing  out  a  feeler  in  order 
that  her  husband  might  confide  anything  to  her  if 
he  wished  to  do  so. 

' '  You  got  through  your  business,  Alfred  ? ' ' 

"Yes — yes,  yes." 

"And  brought  it  to  a  successful  issued' 

"Well — I  can't  exactly  say  that,  but  I  have  put 
things  in  train."  He  gave  a  short  angry  sigh,  as 
if  he  were  vexed  with  himself  and  the  world  in 
general. 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Regina 's  tongue  to  ask  where 
he  had  dined.  Perhaps  if  she  had  done  so  an  explana- 
tion would  have  taken  place  between  them  and  her 
mind  have  been  set  at  rest;  but  a  certain  delicacy 
overcame  her  as  if  she,  in  dining  at  the  Trocaderc, 
withotit  giving  her  husband  due  warning  of  the  fact, 
had  committed  an  indiscretion.  So  she  simulated  a 
fatigue  which  she  was  far  from  feeling  and  she  went 
off  to  bed,  followed  two  minutes  later  by  Alfred, 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  253 

who  declared  himself  to  be  tired  out,  and  it  was  not 
until  Regina  found  herself  in  bed  in  the  dark,  with 
her  husband  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the— shall  we  say  ? 
—just,  beside  her  that  she  gave  herself  up  to  re- 
viewing the  situation.  Well,  "hope  deferred  niaketh 
the  heart  sick."  It  may  be  so,  but  certain  it  is  that 
Regina 's  heart  was  very  sore  and  sorry  that  night. 
Hope  was  deferred  no  longer,  uncertainty  had  become 
certainty;  she  knew  the  worst  I  She  had  seen  the 
hussy!  It  was  beyond  her  understanding  to  know 
why  Alfred  could  have  allowed  himself  to  be  en- 
tangled by  such  a  creature — so  common,  attractive 
only  with  a  common  attractiveness,  pretty  only 
in  a  common  type  of  prettiness;  young,  yet  not 
blooming.  He  had  not  looked  happy;  he  sighed  in 
his  sleep. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  said  Regina  to  herself.  "Tell 
him?  No,  no;  never,  never  own  for  one  instant  that 
I  have  the  smallest  knowledge  or  suspicion  that  my 
husband  is  shared  by  a  creature  like  that." 

She  lay  awake  for  hours  during  that  night,  and 
when  the  first  faint  streaks  of  morning  came 
struggling  in  at  the  window,  she  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  was  unhappy  in  that  relationship, 
that  he  had  been  entangled  and  that  freedom  would 
be  infinitely  precious  to  him. 

"I  must  work  hard  at  my  task  of  supplanting 
such  a  person,"  she  told  herself,  "I  must  be  wary 
and  wily  and  sweet,  and  must  make  myself  attractive. 
Alfred  has  been  most  attentive  to  me  since  I  went  to 
^Madame  d'Estelle,  and  since  Clementine  made  my 
hats  for  me  and  Florence  rearranged  my  hair.    I 


254  THE   LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

must  be  wary  and  patient,  always  wary  and  patient, 
give  him  no  excuse  for  wanting  to  go  away  from 
home,  give  him  no  sense  of  rest  in  any  other  place 
than  under  his  own  roof.  It  will  not  be  easy — no,  it 
will  be  most  difficult.  Poor  fellow!  he's  so  set  on 
keeping  faith  with  me  that  he  even  resents  any  little 
thing  that  I  do  to  change  myself.  I  hate  that 
woman !  Yes,  I  have  never  hated  anyone  in  my  life 
as  I  hate  that  woman! 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  255 


CHAPTER   XXX 

daddy's  heart 

I  ^yonder  is  there  a  woman  in  the  world  who  is  not  touched  by 
a  gift  of  beautiful  furs  ? 

It  was  fortunate  for  Regina  that  stie  had  been  in 
the  past  accustomed  to  live  her  life  a  good  deal  to 
herself.  An  ordinary  wife  and  mother  who  started 
out  on  a  scheme  of  rejuvenation  as  elaborate  as  that 
of  Mrs.  Whittaker's  would  find  it  extremely  difficult 
to  account  for  the  hours  which  she  would  have  to 
spend  outside  her  own  house.  The  ordinary  young 
girl  in  decent  society  usually  has  to  explain  to  her 
mother  what  she  has  done  with  her  day,  sometimes 
what  she  is  going  to  do,  and  must  generally  gain  per- 
mission for  any  expedition  which  she  desires  to  make. 
I  have  known  young  girls  who  considered  surveillance 
to  be  what  they  indignantly  termed  espionage,  and  I 
have  known  much  heart  burning,  much  kicking 
against  the  pricks  from  the  girls  of  the  family 
because  they  were  not,  like  their  brothers,  free  as  the 
wind,  to  go  where  they  listed.  But  I  must  tell  my 
readers  that  the  espionage  of  mothers  over  daughters 
is  as  nothing  compared  to  the  espionage  of  daughters 
over  a  popular  mother. 

In  a  certain  household  with  which  I  am  intimately 


256  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

acquainted,   these   are   some   scraps   of   conversation 
which  may  frequently  be  heard: 

''Well,  darling,  where  are  you  going  to-day V 

' '  Oh,  I  'm  going  out  and  about ;  I  want  to  go  along 
the  High  Street,  and  then  perhaps  I'll  go  to  tea  with 
So-and-So,  and  I  half  promised  to  go  to  Fuller's  to 
tea  with  such  and  such  a  boy.  I'm  not  going  far 
away.  I  shall  be  out  and  about.  Why — do  you  want 
me?" 

' '  Oh  no,  dear.    Be  in  by  dinner  time. ' ' 

On  the  other  hand,  this  is  a  scrap  or  conversation 
from  the  same  family : 

"Are  you  going  out  to-day,  mother?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"Oh,  I'm  going  out." 

"Yes,  but  where?"  Then  follows  a  string  of 
questions — "AVhat  are  you  going  to  do?  What  are 
you  going  to  get?  What  time  shall  you  be  in?  Do 
you  want  me  to  go  with  you?  Is  daddy  going  with 
you?"  and  so  on.  The  simple  answer,  "I'm  going 
out  and  about,"  or  "I'm  going  for  a  walk,"  would 
in  no  wise  serve  that  mother.  If  she  managed  to  slip 
out  without  her  family  knowing  the  exact  details  of 
her  programme  she  would  certainly  have  to  explain 
how  she  had  spent  every  minute  of  her  time  when 
she  got  home  again.  ' '  Well,  where  did  you  go  ? 
Who  did  you  see?  Where  did  you  have  tea?  How 
many  teas  did  you  have  ?  Did  you  have  a  good  time  ? 
Are  you  tired?  Why  didn't  you  let  me  know  you 
were  going?  I  wanted  to  go  with  you."  These  are 
only   a   few   of   the   questions   that   this   particular 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  257 

mother  has  to  answer  whenever  she  happens  to  go 
out  without  attendance;  and  I  say  lucky  it  was  for 
Regina  that  she  had  early  inculcated  the  liberty  of 
the  subject  into  the  hearts  of  her  daughters  twain. 

Just  at  first,  after  giving  up  public  life,  she  had 
made  a  feeble  effort  to  assert  the  ordinary  role  of 
motherhood,  but  she  had  found  herself  brought 
sharply  to  a  realization  of  her  own  principles,  that 
she  was  free  as  air,  to  do  as  she  liked,  and  that  Julia 
had  the  same  privileges  as  herself.  Fortunate  it  was 
for  Regina  that  it  was  so,  for  she  was  able  to  continue 
her  work  of  regeneration,  carried  out  on  the  most 
twentieth-century  lines,  without  being  hindered  by 
objections  and  comments  from  her  husband  and 
daughters.  For  Julia  was  accustomed  to  spend  her 
days  among  her  own  friends  and  to  follow  her  own 
inclinations,  and  Regina  had  been  for  many  years 
accustomed  to  come  and  go  without  hindrance  or 
comment. 

Now,  at  this  time,  she  became  almost  too  busy  to 
worry  about  even  the  existence  of  the  hussy.  Twice 
a  week  she  spent  an  hour  at  The  Dressing-Room, 
having  her  hair  brushed  and  kept  beautiful.  Twice 
a  week  she  attended  the  salons  of  her  beauty  specialist, 
who  did  all  manner  of  quaint  things  to  her  complex- 
ion, smoothing,  washing,  patting,  kneading,  dabbing, 
spraying,  using  electricity  and  washes,  and  employing 
various  other  modes  of  rendering  her  skin  beautifully 
emoth.  Then  twice  a  week  she  attended  the  classes 
of  a  fashionable  expert  in  physical  culture,  and  at 
her  bidding  Regina.  clad  in  black  satin  knickers  and  a 
white  blouse,  innocent  of  corsets  or  any  other  arti- 

17 


258  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

ficial  means  of  making  a  figure,  went  through  a  series 
of  antics,  from  blowing  her  nose  scientifically  to  hop- 
ping about  in  attitudes  suggestive  of  a  gigantic  frog — 
only  that  Eegina  grew  less  and  less  gigantic,  and 
more  and  more  approached  to  the  proportions  of  her 
daughters.  And  then  Regina  took  to  learning  the 
bicj^cle.  Her  modesty  suggested  that  she  should  start 
on  a  machine  with  three  wheels,  but  the  professor  of 
that  art,  who  ran  a  show  in  Regent's  Park — well  re- 
moved from  Regina 's  own  domain — assured  her  that 
it  was  absurd  for  a  person  of  her  age  and  generally 
healthy  aspect  to  begin  on  a  machine  that  he  would 
recommend  to  anyone  old  enough  to  be  her  mother. 
So  Regina,  with  many  misgivings,  set  out  to  learn  the 
bicycle.  She  was  not  an  easy  pupil  to  teach,  but 
there  is  no  doubt  that  the  nose  blowing,  hopping, 
rolling  over  and  over  on  the  floor,  and  going  through 
the  many  exercises  which  the  expert  in  physical 
culture  ordained  for  her  had  given  her  a  degree  of 
lissomeness  which  she  had  never  enjoyed  in  the  whole 
course  of  her  existence. 

These  pursuits  necessitated  her  lunching  in  town 
every  single  day  in  the  week,  and,  having  some  time 
still  on  her  hands,  she  devoted  one  hour  in  the  week 
to  learning  fencing,  and  then  she  joined  a  bridge 
class  connected  with  her  club.  And  truly  she  proved 
what  marvelous  changes  an  ordinary,  stout,  podgy, 
somewhat  self-indulgent  woman,  getting  near  her  half 
century,  can  make  in  herself  if  she  chooses. 

"Regina,"  said  Alfred,  one  evening  when  she  came 
down  to  dinner  wearing  a  bewitching:  little  confection 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  259 

of  silk  and  lace,  which,  if  he  had  only  known  it,  was 
called  a  coffee-coat,  "my  dear,  are  you  still  going  to 
that  doctor  of  yours?" 

''Yes.'^ 

"How  often?" 

"Once  a  week,  or  so." 

"I  feel  very  anxious  about  you." 

"But  why,  when  I'm  so  well?" 

"My  dear  girl,  you  are  fading  away,  you  are  going 
to  nothing,  you  are  not  as  well  covered  as  you  were 
when  we  were  married. ' ' 

*  *  I  am  not  skinny,  Alfred ! ' '  said  Regina,  with 
dignity. 

' '  Skinny !  God  forbid  !  But  where  are  you  going 
to  stop?" 

"In  your  heart,  Alfred,"  said  Regina,  looking  at 
him  very  sweetly. 

"But  if  you  go  on  as  you  are  at  present,  there 
won 't  be  anything  of  you  left  to  stop  ! ' ' 

"Oh,  you  don't  understand.  I  had  so  given  myself 
up  to  public  life  that  I  had  let  myself  grow  fat  and 
ungainly,  and  I  despised  things  that  all  women  should 
think  much  of.  But  I  have  seen  the  error  of  my  ways 
— and  I  feel  as  gay  as  a  bird,  as  light  as  air.  I  only 
wish,  dearest,  that  you  would  pay  a  little  more  atten- 
tion to  yourself." 

"I?  Dear,  dear,  dear!  You  don't  mean  to  say 
that  you  want  me  to  live  on  dog  biscuits.  I  decline 
to  do  it,  Regina,  even  to  please  you.  I  lead  a  busy 
life,  although,  thank  God!  I  am  able  to  make  money. 
I  often  scamp  my  lunch — just  taking  anything  that 


260  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

comes  handy,  but  my  good  breakfast  in  the  morning 
and  my  good  dinner  at  night  I  insist  upon  having." 

' '  Oh,  those  good  dinners ! ' '  said  Regina,  but  she 
said  it  good-naturedly,  and  Alfred  only  laughed  and 
began  to  serve  the  soup. 

"Now  try  a  little  of  this,  Palistine  soup — your 
favorite. ' ' 

' '  No,  not  soup,  dear. ' ' 

"Why  punish  yourself?  You  are  as  thin  as  a 
match  already." 

"Dr.  Money-Berry  warned  me  against  soups." 

"Well,  this  once?  I  bought  something  for  you 
to-day.  Now,  to  please  me  you  must  have  a  little  of 
this." 

"Very  well." 

"Your  sins  shall  be  upon  my  head,"  said  Alfred. 

"No,  I  will  take  my  sins  on  my  own  shoulders," 
said  Regina. 

It  was  not  until  the  maid  had  left  them  alone  that 
she  asked  him  what  the  present  was  that  he  had 
bought  for  her  that  day. 

"Ah,  you  wait  till  after  dinner,  old  lady.  I  had 
the  chance  of  buying  something  very  nice  at  a  quite 
reasonable  price,  and  I  took  it,  as  I  had  to  take  it  or 
leave  it  without  any  chance  of  consulting  you.  If  you 
don't  like  it  you  can  hand  it  over  to  one  of  the  girls." 

"I  shall  like  it,"  said  Regina,  and  she  asked  no 
further  questions. 

It  was  after  dinner,  when  they  had  retired  to  the 
pleasant  drawing-room,  that  Alfred  brought  forth  his 
purchase.    It  was  a  rather  flat  parcel,  looking  like  a 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  261 

rather  large  cardboard  box  done  up  in  brown  paper. 
With  masculine  pride  Alfred  snipped  the  string, 
undid  the  wrappings  and  brought  to  view  the  card- 
board box  that  Regina  had  expected.  Within  were 
more  wrappings  of  tissue  paper,  and  these  undone  dis- 
closed a  large  tippet  or  stole  and  a  big  muff  of  the 
order  usually  called  "granny,"  made  of  the  finest 
dark  sables. 

"Alfred!"  cried  Regina,  all  in  a  flutter. 

"Ah,  I  thought  you'd  say  that.  No  question  of 
handing  them  over  to  the  girls,  eh?" 

"I  should  think  not  indeed.  Why,  darling  boy, 
you  must  have  given  a  fortune  for  them. ' ' 

He  slipped  the  tippet  over  her  head  and  kissed  her 
at  the  same  time.  "Not  too  much  for  you,  Queenie, 
but  they  did  cost,  wall,  a  penny  or  two,  but  it  was  a 
bargain  all  the  same.  Now,  put  your  hands  in  the 
muff  and  look  at  yourself." 

"Oh,  Alfred — oh,  Alfred,  you  do  love  me?"  said 
Regina. 

"Love  you!  Ever  have  cause  to  doubt  it?"  he 
asked  quite  sharply. 

Regina  was  almost  choked  by  her  emotion.  The 
psychic  moment  had  arrived  for  her  to  make  her 
confession,  to  tell  him  all  her  doubts  and  fears,  all 
her  efforts  to  make  herself  lovely  in  his  eyes.  ''My 
Alfred,  my  noble  Alfred,"  she  exclaimed,  flinging  her 
arms  round  his  neck  and  clasping  the  muff  against 
his  head.  She  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "I  have 
something  to  tell  you, ' '  but  she  hesitated,  in  a  manner 
unusual  with  her,  for  a  choice  of  words.  In  the  rush 
of  gratitude  she  almost  let  slip  that  she  had  something 


262  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

to  confess  when  the  door  opened,  and  Maudie,  followed 
by  her  husband,  came  into  the  room. 

"Furs!  Dark  sables!  Darling,  daddy  has  been 
openinsr  his  heart  to  you." 

*' Daddy's  heart  is  always  open  to  me,"  said  Regina. 


MRS.   WHITTAKER  263 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

REGINA    SETS    FOOT    ON    THE    DOWN    GRADE 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  wisdom  in  the  old  saying  "  Truth 

will  out." 

Somehow  those  sables  served  to  put  Regina  further 
from  her  husband  instead  of  drawing  her  nearer  to 
him.  I'm  sure  that  Alfred  Whittaker  himself  would 
have  been  shocked  had  he  known  the  effect  that  his 
gift  had  upon  his  spouse.  Every  day— nay,  every 
hour  tended  to  confirm  her  belief  that  the  hussy  she 
had  seen  dining  with  Alfred  at  the  Trocadero  had 
complete  ascendency  over  him,  and  yet  those  sables 
stopped  her  time  after  time  from  broaching  the  sub- 
ject to  him.  They  were,  so  to  speak,  a  sop  in  the  pot, 
and  whenever  Regina  was  on  the  point  of  laying  her 
hand  on  Alfred's  shoulder  and  saying  to  him,  plump 
and  straight,  "Alfred,  is  your  heart  still  mine?"  a 
vision  of  dark  sables  seemed  to  rise  up  and  choke  the 
very  words  in  her  throat.  Most  women  would  love  to 
have  a  danger-signal  in  the  shape  of  dark  sables,  rich 
and  elegant,  soft  and  cosy,  at  once  luxurious  and  com- 
forting, but  there  were  times  when  Regina  almost 
hated  her  sables  because  they  seemed  to  have  raised  an 
extra  barrier  between  herself  and  Alfred. 

''Mother,"  said  Julia,  one  morning,  when  Regina 


264  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

was  about  to  leave  the  house  on  one  of  her  strictly- 
personal  expeditions,  "are  you  going  to  Pr.  Money- 
Berry  again?" 

"Yes,  dear,  I  am.    Why?" 

* '  Do  you  think  he  is  doing  very  much  good  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  I  do,  indeed!  I  consider  that  he  has  set  me 
free,  body  and  soul,  from  the  burden  that  I  used  to 
carry  about  with  me. ' ' 

"Oh — you  mean — fat,  darling?  Don't  you  think 
it  suits  you  to  be  a  little  f at  ? " 

"I  don't  think  it  suits  anybody  to  be  fat,"  said 
Regina,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  the  recent  convert. 

"And  yet  I  have  heard  you  describe  daddy  as  a 
man  of  commanding  presence.  How  would  you  like 
it  if  daddy  were  to  starve  himself  down  until  all  the 
command  of  his  presence  disappeared  into  nothing- 
ness ? ' ' 

"Ah,  but  I  was  gross,"  said  Regina. 

"I  never  knew  you  when  you  were  gross,"  said 
Julia.  "I  thought  at  Maudie's  wedding  you  looked 
lovely,  and  daddy  said  to  me — ' ' 

' '  What  did  your  father  say  to  you  ? ' ' 

Julia  drew  a  step  nearer  to  her  mother,  and 
smoothed  down,  with  tender  yet  nervous  fingers,  the 
stole  of  soft  gray  fur  which  was  around  her  shoulders. 

* '  Why  don 't  you  ever  wear  your  sables  1 ' '  she  asked 
irrelevantly. 

"My  sables?"  said  Regina.  "Oh,  I  don't  like  to 
wear  them  every  day." 

"But  when  you  are  going  to  town,  among  smart 
West-End  physicians — that  doesn't  mean  every  day. 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  265 


I  don't  suggest  that  you  should  put  them  on  to  go  up 
the  village  in.    Don't  you  like  them?" 

''Oh,  yes,  no  woman  in  the  world  would  dislike 
them." 

"That's  what  I  thought.  You  know,  mother  dear, 
you're  cooking  up  something  about  daddy." 

''No,  I  would  rather  not  discuss  it  with  you,  my 
darling. ' ' 

"Sometimes,"  said  Julia,  still  smoothing  the  stole 
up  and  down,  ' '  sometimes  it 's  better  to  get  it  off  your 
chest. ' ' 

' '  What  a  very  vulgar  remark  ! ' '  said  Regina. 

"Yes,  perhaps,  but  very  practical.  Now,  I've  been 
watching  you." 

' '  I  wish  you  wouldn  't, ' '  said  Regina. 

"Yes,  we  all  wish  others  wouldn't.  You  see,  that 
night  at  the  Trocadero  let  us  all  behind  the  scenes  a 
little.  Yes — I  must  speak,  it 's  been  trembling  on  the 
tip  of  my  tongue  for  weeks  past,  but,  somehovr,  you 
always  put  me  off.  I  believe  that  daddy  could  explain 
it  all." 

' '  There  is  no  necessity  for  explanation. ' ' 

She  looked  very  stern,  very  severe;  but  Julia  was 
minded  to  speak,  and  when  Julia  was  minded  to  speak 
she  generally  had  her  say. 

"You  are  quite  a  different  woman  to  what  you 
were  when  ^laudie  was  married.  You're  not  fretting 
after  her,  that's  certain — an  outsider  might  think  so, 
but  I  know  better.  You've  never  told  daddy  a  word 
about  our  having  seen  him  at  the  Trocadero  that  night. 
You  didn  't  notice  him  very  much ;  you  resolutely  kept 
your  eyes  away  from  him.    I  had  no  such  delicacy  of 


266  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

feeling,  I  watched  him  very  closely.  That  woman  is 
nothing  to  him.  I  don 't  know  why  he  was  dining  with 
her,  I  don 't  know  why  he  didn  't  tell  you  about  it,  but 
he  was  bored  and  annoyed.  He  was  trying  to  pull 
something  off,  and  he  couldn't  get  what  he  wanted. 
If  she  ever  had  any  sort  of  hold  over  him,  that  hold 
has  long  since  ceased  to  be  an  attractive  one — ^he  was 
bored  to  death  with  her.  I  don't  know  that  Maudie 
wasn't  right." 

''You  have  discussed  it  with  Maudie?" 

''I  have,  or  rather  she  has  discussed  it  with  me. 
She  was  all  for  going  down  and  tackling  daddy  right 
away,  and  I  believe  her  instinct  was  right,  and  that 
daddy  would  rather  you  knew  he  was  there. ' ' 

''And  Maudie  thinks—?" 

"Maudie?  Oh,  Maudie 's  mind  works  in  quite  a  dif- 
ferent way  to  mine — always  did.  Maudie  thinks  it  is 
just  an  ordinary  affair  of  that  kind,  and  left  alone 
she  would  have  gone  down  and  taxed  him  with  it,  but 
Harry  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  But  daddy  was  there  and 
she  was  there — and  a  horrid-looking  brute  she  was — 
but  whoever  she  was,  and  whatever  she  may  be,  I  am 
perfectly  sure  there  is  not  the  slightest  occasion  for 
you  to  worry  about  her,  one  way  or  the  other. ' ' 

"I  don't — "  Regina  began,  but  Julia  promptly  cut 
her  short. 

"Oh,  yes,  darling,  you  do.  You  were  quite  a 
changed  woman  after  that  night — ah,  and  before  that 
night,  too.  I  know  perfectly  well  that  you  are  worry- 
ing, I  could  burst  out  crying  sometimes  to  see  the  look 
on  your  face,  and  poor  old  daddy  is  quite  unconscious, 
he  hasn't  the  least  idea  why  you  are  so  quiet  and  so 


MES.  WHITTAKER  267 

unlike  yourself.  He  asked  me  quite  anxiously  the 
other  day  if  I  thought  you  were  over-doing  the  treat- 
ment with  Dr.  Money-Berry." 

''I  believe,"  said  Regina,  who  before  all  things  was 
loyal  to  her  Alfred,  ' '  I  believe  that  all  persons  inclin- 
ing to  stoutness  would  be  better  in  health,  and  in 
mind  too,  if  they  would  take  means  to  keep  them- 
selves to  proper  proportions.    Oh,  Dr.  Money-Berry  is 
quite  right  in  saying  that  fat  is  a  disease,  and  should 
be  treated  as  such.    I  have  been  to  him  once  or  twice 
lately  because  I  was  not  sure  that  my  symptoms  were 
desirable.     I  am  really  going  to  him  to-day  to  say 
good-by  for  the  second  time.    Don't  worry  about  me, 
darling   child,   and   don't   discuss   your   father   with 
Maudie.    I  have  never  entered  into  details  of  business 
and  I  never  intend  to.     Your  father  distinctly  told 
me  that  he  was  dining  with  somebody  on  business ;  it 
would  be  intolerable  for  him,  placed  as  he  is,  if  his 
wife  were  to  worr\'  him  to  death  every  time  he  spoke 
to  another  woman.    Dear  little  girl,  you'll  be  marry- 
ing one  of  these  days,  and  you'll  have  a  husband  of 
your  own ;  then  you  will  realize  that  between  husband 
and  wife  discretion  is  truly  the  better  part  of  valor. 
And  I  wish  you  would  put  that  incident  right  out  of 
your  head — regard  it  as  a  business  matter — and  not 
think  of  it  every  time  you  think  I  am  not  looking 
as  gay  as  usual.    You  know,  my  darling,  I  have  many 
thoughts  busying  to  and  fro  in  my  brain.     I  have 
never  been  a  mere  machine  for  ordering  dinner,  and 
although  I  have  given  up  public  life,  I  have  not  given 
up  all  my  thoughts — I  still  have  an  intellect.     Your 
father  is  the  best  and  noblest  man  I  ever  knew.    One 


268  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

of  these  days  he  will  explain  what,  so  far,  he  has  only 
told  me  in  part.  But  I  must  be  going,  I  am  rather  late 
already.    Tell  me,  are  you  occupied  all  day  1 ' ' 

"Yes,  that  is  to  say,  I  am  lunching  with  Maudie, 
and  then  I  am  going  on  to  my  club. ' ' 

''No,  come  and  have  tea  at  mine.     I  shall  expect 
you  between  half -past  four  and  five. ' ' 

' '  Right  you  are,  mother. ' ' 

And  then  Mrs.  Whittaker  went  out,  passed  down 
the  tessellated  covered  way  and  turned  her  face 
toward  the  station,  conscious  that  she  had  that  day 
graduated  as  a  first-class  liar.  Well,  if  she  had  lied, 
she  had  lied  in  a  good  cause.  If  she  had  succeeded  in 
restoring  the  faith  of  her  child  in  husband  and  father, 
she  had  lied  to  some  purpose,  and  surely  the  recording 
angel  would  drop  showers  of  tears  over  the  spot,  and 
it  would  be  blotted  out  forever.  Her  thoughts  had 
reached  this  point  when  she  reached  the  ticket  office. 
She  had  to  stand  and  wait  for  some  time  while  two 
ladies  fumbled  with  their  purses,  and  while  they  dis- 
cussed whether  they  would  travel  first  or  second. 

''First-class  to  Baker  Street — oh,  yes,  it's  horrid  on 
that  line,  I  always  go  first  to  Baker  Street — and,  my 
dear,  if  I  didn't  meet  him  the  very  next  day,  walking 
along  with  a  creature — oh !  Twopence  more  1  Thank 
you,  I'm  so  sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trouble — yes, 
I  met  him  walking  with  a  bold,  brazen  hussy,  and  I 
never  saw  a  man  looking  so  crestfallen  as  Mr. 
Whittaker  did  when  he  saw  me." 

There  was  a  little  waiting-room  hard  by  the  ticket 
office  and  Regina  turned  sharply  round  and  took 
refuge  in  this  dingy  little  retreat. 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  269 

"My  dear!"  said  the  lady  who  had  been  listening 
to  the  one  who  had  mentioned  Mr.  Whittaker's  name, 
"you  have  done  the  most  awful  thing  you  ever  did 
in  your  life.  Mrs.  Whittaker  w^as  standing  just 
behind  you,  and  she  heard  every  word  you  said. 

"Poor  woman!  Did  she,  really T  I  am  sorry! 
Well,  I  never  believe  in  making  mischief  between 
husband  and  wife,  but  it's  a  shame,  and  I  do  think 
that  a  man  who  is  carrying  on  a  double  game  ought 
to  be  found  out." 


270  THE   LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

WISE    JULIA 

There  is  a  certain  class  of  woman  who  loves  a  fracas  of  any 

kind. 

The  waiting-room  at  Northampton  Park  boasted  of 
no  attendant,  so  Regina  was  able  to  sit  down  by  the 
bare  mahogany  table  and  wait  until  the  storm  which 
possessed  her  had  passed  by.  Poor  Regina!  The 
first  thought  that  came  to  her  was  that  after  all  she 
had  lied  to  no  purpose.  It  was  no  small  thing  to  a 
woman  of  her  sturdy  and  open  mind  that  she  had 
spun  a  perfect  tissue  of  lies  to  her  own  child.  She 
knew  that  she  had  lied  in  a  double  sense,  for  she  had 
not  deceived  Julia,  and  she  knew  now  that  others 
were  on  the  track  of  Alfred's  wrongdoings.  She  was 
shaking  now,  shaking  like  a  leaf,  and  as  she  sat  there, 
her  sad  eyes  roaming  over  the  customary  literature 
that  one  finds  on  the  table  of  a  suburban  waiting- 
room,  she  wished  she  had  been  left  in  her  fool's 
paradise.  She  realized  with  a  great  shock  the  truth 
of  the  old  saw,  ''If  ignorance  is  bliss,  'twere  folly  to 
be  wise."  Yes,  she  would  rather  have  been  left  in 
her  fool 's  paradise !  But  there,  since  the  outer  world 
was  already  talking  of  Alfred's  doings,  it  was  small 
wonder  that  she  had  lit  upon  the  truth  also. 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  271 

Her  talk  with  Jiilia,  and  the  little  incident  that 
had  caused  her  to  take  refuge  in  the  waiting-room, 
had  made  her  hopelessly  late  for  her  appointments, 
but  that,  Regina  felt,  could  not  be  helped.  She 
turned,  when  she  left  the  waiting-room,  and  walked 
across  the  green  mto  the  Post-Office,  where  she  sent 
off  a  couple  of  telegrams,  and  then  she  took  the  next 
train  to  London  and  went  straight  to  her  club,  where 
she  lunched  by  herself.  I  need  not  go  into  the  details 
of  her  day.  She  kept  her  appointments,  behaved 
herself  in  a  perfectly  rational  manner,  and  went 
home,  poor  woman,  with  a  heart  as  heavy  as  lead. 
When  she  got  home  a  terrible  shock  was  waiting  for 
her.  Mr.  Whittaker  had  come  home,  inquired  for  her, 
and  gone  off  with  a  portmanteau  and  left  a  note 
for  her  on  the  dining-room  mantelshelf. 

"The  master  was  so  put  out,"  the  intelligent 
parlor-maid  declared,  looking  quite  reproachfully  at 
Regina,  "he  came  in  at  five  o'clock;  of  course  there 
wasn't  a  soul  at  home.  I  knew  Miss  Julia  had  gone 
to  Mrs.  ^Marksby's,  and  I  told  master  so,  and  he  went 
to  the  telephone  to  speak  through  to  Miss  Maudie — I 
mean  Mrs.  Marksby,  but  the  young  ladies,  they  were 
gone  out  somewhere  or  other,  and  Mr.  Harry  wasn't 
in,  and  I'd  no  idea  where  you  was.  Master  ivas  put 
out!  He  had  a  cup  of  tea,  and  packed  his  bag  and 
he  tramped  up  and  down  the  road,  and  then  he  said 
to  me,  'Margaret,'  said  he,  'I  must  go  or  I  sha'n't 
catch  my  train,  but  I  've  written  a  note  to  the  mistress, 
and  be  sure  you  take  care  of  her  whilst  I  am  away.' 
Those  were  his  last  words,  'be  sure  you  take  care  of 
her  whilst  I  am  away ! '  " 


272  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

''Well,  well,"  said  liegina,  who  did  not  believe  in 
giving  way  in  the  presence  of  servants,  "well,  well, 
your  master  has  had  to  go  away  on  business,  no 
doubt.    His  letter  will  explain  everything." 

Her  exterior  was  calm,  but  her  heart  was  beating 
fast  as  she  turned  into  the  dining-room  and  took  the 
letter  off  the  chimney-shelf.  She  felt  that  the  fatal 
moment  had  come,  and  that  Alfred  was  gone.  Alfred 
was  gone,  but  not  in  the  sense  in  which  her  doubting 
heart  had  feared. 

"Dearest  Queenie'' — the  letter  ran — "I  am 
dreadfully  upset  not  to  fmd  you  at  home,  as  I  phoned 
up  to  you  directly  I  knew  that  I  should  have  to  go 
away  on  most  important  business.  I  am  just  off  to 
Paris.  Just  imagine  my  going  to  Paris  without  you, 
dearest !  It  seems  preposterous.  If  I  get  my  business 
through  in  a  day  or  two,  perhaps  you  will  join  me 
there?  If  I  don't  get  my  business  through,  I  may 
have  to  go  on  elsewhere,  and  I  could  not  drag  you 
about,  on  what  may  be  a  wild-goose  chase,  half  over 
Europe.  I  could  have  given  you  an  outline  of  the 
story  if  you  had  been  at  home,  but  I  haven't  time  to 
write  it.  When  I  think  of  myself,  a  respectable 
British  householder,  tearing  off  on  this  mad  errand, 
1  feel  inclined  to  pinch  myself  to  make  sure  that  I 
am  awake.    Till  we  meet. — Your  fond  and  devoted 

"Alfred." 

Eegina  sat  down  and  gasped.  What  did  it  mean? 
Surely  the  hussy  was  not  at  the  bottom  of  this.  Just 
then  Julia  came  in,  having  run  across  the  road  to 
speak  to  one  of  the  Marksby  girls  whom  she  had  seen 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  273 

standing  at  the  gate  as  they  came  toward  Ye  Dene. 

"\\' hat's  this  Margaret  says  about  daddy?"  she 
asked. 

"Nothing,  my  dear,  nothing,"  Regina  rejoined, 
quite  airily.  "Your  father  has  had  to  go  away  on 
business  for  a  few  days." 

"Oh,  I  thought,  from  Margaret's  demeanor,  that 
daddy  had  gone  away  for  good  and  all." 

"Julia!" 

"Well,  Margaret  seemed  to  make  such  a  mouthful 
of  it." 

"He  came  home  very  much  fussed  not  to  find  us  at 
home,  and  I  suppose  Margaret  imagined  that  some- 
thing serious  had  happened.  It's  nothing  at  all. 
Here,  you  can  read  the  letter." 

"Paris!"  said  Julia,  when  she  reached  that  point 
of  information  as  she  read  her  father's  good-by  note. 

"Well — how  nice!  If  you  do  join  him  you  will 
have  a  lovely  time — a  little  honeymoon  trip.  Perhaps 
he  will  ask  me  to  go,  too — that  would  be  lovely.  How 
silly  of  Margaret  to  be  so  mysterious  about  it !  Well, 
I'll  go  and  tidy  for  dinner." 

]\Iother  and  daughter  were  quite  cheerful  as  they 
discussed  the  evening  meal.  At  about  nine  o'clock 
there  was  a  sound  of  electricity,  and  Julia  lifted  her 
head  from  her  book. 

"I  believe  that's  Harry  and  Maudie;  it  sounded 
like  their  brougham." 

Then  there  was  a  peal  at  the  bell,  and  Julia  ran 
out  into  the  hall. 

"^laudie,  is  it  you^'  she  asked. 
18 


274  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

**Yes,  we  thought  we  would  come  out  and  see  you. 
How's  mother r' 

"Oh,  all  right.     I  thought  you  were  going  to  a 
-theatre?" 

"Yes,  we  did  think  about  it,  but  we  changed  our 
minds.    Julia,  has  anything  happened  ? ' ' 

"No — at  least,  only  that  daddy  has  gone  to  Paris 
for  a  few  days.  We  came  home  and  found  he  had 
been  here,  fussed  because  mother  wasn't  in,  packed 
his  own  bag,  and  left  a  note  to  say  where  he  has  gone 
and  to  say  'good-by'  and — voild  tout.'' 

"But  it  isn't  all,"  cried  Maudie,  "it's  only  the 
beginning  of  it.  My  dear,  daddy's  gone  to  Paris 
with  her!  It  was  by  the  merest  chance  we  know. 
Harry  was  coming  up  the  Strand — walking — ^he 
came  up  with  a  man  in  his  cab  as  far  as  Charing 
Cross  because  they  wanted  to  talk  business;  he  got 
out  at  the  corner  of  Villiers  Street,  and  as  he  crossed 
over  to  the  entrance  of  the  station  he  saw  daddy  drive 
up  in  a  cab  with  a  portmanteau  on  the  top.  Imme- 
diately after^  he  saw  a  four-wheeled  cab  with  her 
inside. ' ' 

"What — you  mean  the  woman  we  saw  at  the 
Trocadero  1 ' ' 

"Yes — he  was  so  struck  by  the  coincidence  of 
their  both  being  at  Charing  Cross  with  luggage  at 
the  same  time  that  he  just  walked  quietly  in  and  saw 
them  both  go  off  together." 

"Not  together— Maudie!" 

"Together — in  the  same  carriage — a  reserved  com- 
partment. And  Harry  says  he  bought  a  sheaf  of 
papers  and  positively  threw  them  at  her. ' ' 


IMES.    WHITTAKER  275 

"  It 's  a  mystery ! ' '  ejaculated  Julia,  blankly.  ' '  His 
letter  to  mother  was  everything  that  a  letter  could 
be.  He  laughs  at  himself  ever  so  for  going  away 
on  a  mad  errand,  suggests  that  she  should  join  him 
in  a  few  days'  time,  and  signs  himself,  'till  we  meet, 
your  fond  and  devoted  Alfred. '  ' ' 

''I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Ju,"  said  Maudie,  dropping 
her  young  married  woman  air  and  becoming  Maudie 
Whittaker  once  more,  "I'm  sorry  to  say  it  because 
he's  my  father,  but  between  you  and  me,  daddy's  a 
regular  bad  lot. ' ' 

'*It  does  seem  so,"  said  Julia,  *'and  the  curious 
part  of  it  is  that  he  looks  so  respectable.  Mother 
won't  believe  it,  you  know.  I  was  talking  to  her  only 
to-day,  she  won 't  believe  a  word  against  him. ' ' 

''Well,  so  much  the  better  for  her,  that's  what 
Harry  says,  but  we  came  to  tell  her — " 

"Not  to  tell  her—?" 

' '  Oh  no,  I  wouldn  't  tell  her  for  the  world.  Let  her 
go  on  believing  in  him  as  long  as  she  can ;  the  awaken- 
ing will  come  soon  enough. ' ' 

"Then  what  did  you  come  for?"  asked  Julia, 
practical  as  usual. 

"My  dear,  I  thought  if  daddy  had  gone  off  and 
perhaps  left  mother  a  letter  to  say  that  he  was  never 
coming  back,  she  would  want  somebody  to  stand  by 
her — and  Harry  and  I  are  prepared  to  do  that." 

"And  where  do  I  come  in?"  asked  Julia,  a  little 

scornfully. 

"Oh,  Ju,  darling,  you  are  always  the  practical 
common-sense  one,  you  are  a  tower  of  strength,  and 
many  are  the  times  I  have  leaned  upon  you;  but  if 


276  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

the  worst  had  happened  you  might  have  been  too 
stunned  yourself  to  help  mother  very  much.  I  think 
a  woman  needs  a  man  at  such  a  crisis  of  her  life. ' ' 

"There  isn't  going  to  be  any  crisis,"  said  Julia, 
quite  prosaically,  "there  isn't  going  to  be  any  crisis. 
But  it  was  nice  of  you  to  come,  and  I  do  think  you  and 
Harry  are  two  dear  things.  There's  an  explanation 
to  all  this.  There's  nothing  of  the  real  bad  lot  about 
daddy,  and  as  for  mother — there's  no  doubt  about  it, 
he  worships  her.  Don't  tell  me  that  when  a  man  is 
tired  of  a  woman  he  brings  home  dark  sables  without 
so  much  as  a  hint  that  they  will  be  welcome — it  isn't 
human  nature,  at  all  events  it  isn't  man  nature." 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  277 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

GRASP  YOUR  NETTLE 

There  is  a  wide  difference  between  grasping  your  nettle  and 
rushing  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread. 

Several  days  had  gone  by  and  still  the  anxiously- 
looked-for  summons  had  not  arrived  from  Alfred 
Whittaker  to  his  wife.  To  outward  seeming  Regina 
was  as  calm  in  the  face  of  this  new  development  of 
events  as  if  no  trace  of  cloud  had  ever  arisen  to 
come  between  her  and  her  noble  Alfred,  but  in  her 
heart  of  hearts  she  watched  every  post  with  an 
anxiety  that  was  absolutely  at  fever  heat.  At  night, 
poor  soul,  she  seemed  to  have  given  up  sleeping,  and 
Regina  was  a  woman  who  needed,  and  had  always 
taken,  a  fixed  amount  of  time  in  bed — when  I  say  that 
I  mean  of  actual,  sound,  solid  sleep.  She  was  one  of 
those  persons  who,  docked  of  sleep,  show  the  signs  of 
wear  and  tear  with  fatal  rapidity. 

During  the  greater  part  of  the  week  she  did  not  go 
out  of  the  Park,  but  left  word  with  the  sympathetic 
IMargaret,  who  was  perfectly  aware  that  something 
out  of  the  common  was  on  foot,  that  in  case  of  a 
telegram  she  was  to  be  fetched  from  such  and  such 
a  house.  Then  Maudie  came  gliding  along  in  her 
motor  brougham,  full  of  sympathy,  and,  I  must  con- 


278  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

fess,  at  the  same  time,  full  of  anxiety  as  to  her 
mother's  condition. 

'^How  is  it  you  are  coming  to  the  Park  every  day 
now?"  Mrs.  Whittaker  asked  on  the  sixth  morning 
when  Maudie  arrived  about  lunch  time. 

"I  was  anxious  about  you,  I  thought  you  were  not 
looking  very  well, ' '  Maudie  remarked. 

''I  am  perfectly  well." 

"Are  you,  dear?  I  fancied  you  were  not  quite 
yourself." 

Julia  was  safely  out  of  the  road,  or  perhaps  young 
Mrs.  Marksby  would  not  have  said  so  much. 

"I  do  wish,  dear,  you  would  get  out  of  this  de- 
pressing neighborhood.  I  assure  you  I  feel  quite  a 
different  woman  since  I  was  married  and  got  away 
from  this  depressing  place." 

"One  generally  does  when  one  gets  married,"  said 
Regina,  with  a  slight  smile. 

"Yes,  I  know,  dear,  but  it  takes  a  month  of  Sun- 
days to  get  here  even  with  a  motor.  I  wish  you 
would  persuade  daddy  to  come  and  live  in  the  West 
End." 

"It  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  we  may  do  so,  dear, 
a  little  later  on.     Oh— what's  that?" 

"That"  was  nothing  more  important  than  the  knock 
of  the  postman. ' ' 

"I  will  go,"  said  Maudie,  and  Maudie  did  go. 
"Two  letters  for  Julia  and  four  for  you." 

"One  from  your  father?"  said  Mrs.  Whittaker, 
with  an  eagerness  which,  for  the  life  of  her,  she  could 
not  suppress. 

"Nothing  in  daddy's  handwriting,"  said  Maudie. 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  279 

":\Tother  dear,  have  you  heard  from  daddy  since  he 
left  home?" 

"Oh  yes,  darling." 

"Every  day?" 

"Not   every   day,"   said   Regina,   "no,   not   every 

day." 

"Before  I  was  married,"  said  Maiidie  m  her  most 
severe  tone,  "on  the  few  occasions  when  daddy  went 
away  without  you,  he  made  a  rule  of  writing  every 

day.-" 

"He's  on  business,"  said  Regina,  feebly. 

"Yes,  darling,  but  he  was  on  business  then.  You 
have  heard  from  him  ? ' ' 

"I  have,"  said  Regina. 

"Oh,  mother— I  may  as  well  tell  you  what's  in  my 

mind. ' ' 

"I  think  you  had  better  not,"  said  Regina  faintly. 

"I'm  sure  I  ought  to  do  so.  I  can't  bear  to  go  on 
deceiving  you  any  longer." 

"Deceiving  me?"  said  Regina.  Her  tone  was 
feeble  but  questioning. 

"Yes,  deceiving  you,"  cried  Maudie.  "Daddy- 
daddy's  not  gone  away  in  an  ordinary  manner  on 
business — oh  yes,  he  calls  it  business,  but  he's  gone 
away  with  that  woman. 

"Maud!" 

"Harry  saw  them  go  away  together,  and  you  are 
watching  for  letters  that  never  come— my  poor, 
crushed  darling,"  i\Iaudie  cried. 

"Harry  saw  them  go?  Them?  You  mean  that 
person,  that  creature  we  saw  dining  with  daddy  at 
the  Trocadero?" 


280  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

Then  Maudie  burst  forth  with  the  entire  story  as 
she  had  told  it  to  Julia. 

''And  that  is  why  I  come  every  day.  I  knew  you 
would  want  some  support,  and  as  I  am  a  married 
woman,  I  knew  I  should  be  more  support  that  Julia, 
although  she  is  so  farseeing.  It's  a  bitter  blow, 
darling,  but  bear  it  like  the  martyr  you  are.  Of 
course,  Harry  will  be  awfully  angry  with  me ;  he  says 
you  never  ought  to  interfere  between  husband  and 
wife,  even  when  they  are  your  own  father  and 
mother. ' ' 

' '  I  would  rather  know  the  worst, ' '  said  Regina ;  "  it 
is  no  kindness  to  keep  a  woman  of  my  calibre  in  the 
dark.  I  can't  discuss  it,  jMaudie  darling,  even  with 
you.  If  your  father  has  really  left  me  for  that  other 
person  I  will  bear  the  blow  and  face  the  world  with 
what  dignity  I  can.  You — you  had  better  not  tell 
Harry  that  you  have  told  me  the  truth,  we  will  keep 
it  a  little  secret  between  ourselves.  I  shouldn't  like 
to  feel  that  because  of  your  sense  of  justice  to  me  the 
first  little  rift  had  come  between  yourself  and  your 
husband.     You  are  lunching  with  me  to-day,  dear?" 

She  turned  the  conversation  into  a  conventional 
channel  with  a  skill  which  was  truly  admirable,  and 
Maudie,  who  was  inclined  to  take  her  color  from 
another,  took  her  cue  on  that  occasion  from  her  mother 
and  answered  in  the  same  strain. 

"No,  I'm  lunching  with  Harry's  mother.  I'd 
rather  stay  here  with  you,  darling,  but  if  I  don't  go 
now  and  again  without  Harry  the  old  lady  is  inclined 
to  be  a  bit  cranky,  and  I  want  to  keep  in  with  her, 
you  know." 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  281 

"Certainly  I  Most  wise  of  you  I  By  all  means  keep 
in  with  your  husband 's  people ;  there  is  nothing  to 
be  gained  by  not  doing  so,"  said  Regina.  "Then 
you  and  I  will  say  no  more  just  now,  darling.  You 
wall  come  across  before  you  go  back  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  mother  dear,  I  will.  I  have  ordered  the 
brougham  for  four  o'clock." 

"Engagements  in  town?"  said  Regina. 

"Yes,  one  or  two  things  on,"  Maudie  answered. 
She  talked  as  if  their  conversation  had  been  all  along 
of  a  most  unimportant  and  trivial  character. 

' '  Then  I  shall  see  you  again, ' '  said  Regina.  ' '  Good- 
by,  dearest." 

She  sat  just  where  Maudie  had  left  her  for  some 
little  time  after  young  Mrs.  Marksby  had  disappeared 
into  the  ancestral  mansion  across  the  road,  a  dozen 
schemes  revolving  in  her  active  brain.  What  should 
she  do?  Should  she  sit  down  meekly  and  tamely 
under  this  new  revelation,  and  let  Alfred  deal  with 
their  lives  as  he  would,  or  should  she  make  a  deter- 
mined step  and  meet  disaster  face  to  face?  "Grasp 
your  nettle"  had  ever  been  a  favorite  saying  w4th 
Regina,  and  she  felt  very  much  like  grasping  her 
nettle  now.  Then  Margaret  came  in  and  told  her  that 
luncheon  was  served,  and  Regina  went  into  the  dining- 
room  and  thoughtfully  helped  herself.  Appetite  she 
had  none.  Xow,  let  me  tell  you,  when  Regina 's  appe- 
tite failed  her,  then  indeed  she  was  in  a  distinctly 
bad  w^ay. 

"Something  has  happened  in  this  'ere  house,"  said 
Margaret  in  the  confidential  atmosphere  of  the  kitch- 
en.   "Missus  have  had  no  lunch  to-day,  not  enough  to 


282  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

keep  a  fly  alive.  Just  look  at  this  plate,  and  that 
little  dish  you  tossed  up  is  one  of  her  favorites.  Why, 
she  hasn  't  even  picked  the  mushrooms  out  of  it. ' ' 

"Lor'!  she  must  be  bad,"  said  the  faithful  cook. 
•'Poor  missus!  I  wonder  if  it's  true  what  they  be 
saying,  that  master's  gone  away  for  good  and  all. 
Six  days  he's  been  away  and  only  one  post-card  has 
he  sent  home.  Why,  generally  he  writes  home  every 
day  and  sometimes  twice.  Ah,  men!  they're  all  alike, 
not  a  pin  to  choose  between  'em.  Now  the  last  place 
that  I  was  in,  I  only  stayed  my  month,  for  the  lady 
she  had  fifteen  servants  in  one  year  and  she  only 
kept  two,  so  you  can  guess  what  sort  of  a  place  I  had 
lighted  on.  Master,  he  carried  on  something  shame- 
ful, not  that  I  blame  him,  for  a  man  what  comes  home 
and  can't  get  his  meals  regular  and  never  knows 
whether  missus  will  be  in  or  out  and  everything  else 
in  the  same  way — well,  you  can't  expect  a  house  to 
be  run  what  you  can  call  comfortable,  at  least  it  never 
is,  and  this  was  a  poor,  feckless  thing  that  didn't  un- 
derstand how  to  order  a  dinner  for  a  gentleman,  and 
didn't  understand  how  to  let  the  cook  make  a  sug- 
gestion. All  the  same,  the  way  that  man  carried  on 
was  fair  disgraceful.  Now,  master  here  has  kept  his 
doings  dark,  and  indeed  if  it  hadn't  been  for  what 
you  overheard  Miss  Maudie  that  was  tell  Miss  Julia, 
I  don 't  know  that  we  should  have  been  any  wiser  than 
we  were  before.  But  there,  men  are  all  alike.  Look 
at  Bill  Jackson,  he  kept  company  with  Annie  Hodg- 
kinson  for  five  years  and  a  half,  and  then  he  up  and 
fair  jilts  her  for  the  sake  of  a  little  bit  of  a  girl  that 
doesn't  know  one  end  of  a  ham  from  the  other.    Of 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  283 

course  he's  miserable  and  he  doesn't  deserve  to  be 
anything  else." 

"For  the  matter  of  that,"  retorted  the  fair  Mar- 
garet, "neither  does  she;  she  knew  well  enough  what 
she  was  doing  when  she  set  her  cap  at  Bill  Jackson. 
Don't  tell  me  that  those  innocent  eyes  don't  see  more 
than  they  pretend  to,  nasty  little  hussy!  I'm  sure, 
whatever  happens  in  this  house,  missus  has  my  pro- 
foundest  sympathy,  and  that's  more  than  I'd  say  for 
any  missus,  and  as  for  master,  he's  like  all  the  rest 
of  them — fair  disgraceful,  I  call  it." 

"Me  too,"  said  the  cook,  "me  too." 

^Meanwhile  Regina  was  sitting  pecking,  I  can  call 
it  nothing  else,  at  a  dainty  little  pudding.  Her 
thoughts  were  very  bitter  and  her  heart  was  full  of 
a  stern  resolve.  Yes,  she  would  grasp  her  nettle,  she 
would  remain  in  doubt  not  a  single  day  longer.  She 
would  just  take  a  handbag,  as  Alfred  had  done,  and 
she  would  leave  a  note  for  Julia,  and  she 
would  go  off  to  Paris  by  the  night  boat.  She 
would  grasp  her  nettle ;  she  would,  at  least,  learn  the 
worst.  If  Alfred  were  no  longer  hers — well,  she 
would  shape  her  life  accordingly.  There  should  be 
no  half  measures,  it  should  be  all  or  nothing.  Truly 
she  had  given  all  that  she  had  to  give  freely.  She 
had,  as  she  believed,  accepted  and  valued  the  whole 
of  her  husband's  love.  There  should  be  no  betwixt 
and  between,  it  should  be  her  or  the  other  one,  Regina 
or  the  hussy.  And  then  Regina  remembered  that  to 
carry  out  her  scheme  she  must  at  once  put  on  her 
things  and  go  to  the  bank  and  get  some  money. 


284  THE  LITTLE   VANITIES  OF 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

A  TRENCHxVNT  QUESTION 

When  months  of  doubt  have  been  crystallized  into  one  simple 
question  how  easy  the  way  seems! 

Mrs.  Whittaker  laid  her  plans  for  leaving  Ye 
Dene  with  the  skill  of  a  diplomat  and  the  secrecy  of  a 
detective.  She  determined  that  she  would  take  no- 
body into  her  confidence.  If  there  was  going  to  be 
a  hideous  scene  with  Alfred  when  she  got  to  the  end 
of  her  journey,  she  preferred  to  have  it  without  wit- 
nesses, especially  either  of  her  own  children.  She 
went  down  to  the  bank  and  drew  out  sufficient  money 
to  cover  all  expenses  and  a  little  over,  and  then  re- 
turned home  in  order  to  prepare  for  her  journey. 
She  chose  her  plainest  frock,  a  rough  brown  tweed, 
tailor  built,  according  to  the  advice  and  under  the 
direction  of  Madame  d'Estelle,  who  did  not  make 
tailor  gowns  herself,  but  introduced  clients  to  a  gen- 
tleman in  that  line,  and  generally  supervised  the  taste 
of  her  customers.  On  her  carefully  arranged  coiffure 
she  wore  a  toque  to  match  her  dress — when  I  say  "to 
match  her  dress"  I  mean  it  was  a  creation  of  brown 
velvet,  with  a  strip  of  sable,  some  gold  buckles  and  a 
twist  of  yellowish  lace.  Over  her  shoulders  she  put 
the  dark  sables  which  Alfred  had  given  her,  took  the 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  285 

muff  upon  her  arm,  and  then  she  went  down  to  her 
own  desk,  where  she  wrote  a  letter  to  Julia : — 

''Dearest" — she  wrote — ''I  am  going  to  join  your 
father  in  Paris.  I  leave  you  ten  pounds ;  if  you  want 
more  money  than  this  before  I  return,  which  is  not 
very  likely,  here  are  a  couple  of  signed  checks  for 
you  to  use.  I  know  that  you  won't  mind  being  left 
alone  for  a  few  days.  If  you  do,  you  might  go  and 
stay  with  Maudie.  I  am  leaving  by  the  Calais-Dover 
route  and  will  let  you  know  as  soon  as  I  arrive  in 
Paris.— Your  fond  and  loving  Mother." 

Then  Mrs.  Whittaker  called  the  servants  in  one  by 
one,  paid  their  wages,  told  them  to  look  after  Miss 
Julia,  and  said  that  she  was  going  to  Paris  to  join 
the  master  for  a  few  days. 

''Which  it's  very  funny,"  remarked  the  cook  to 
Margaret,  a  few  minutes  after  Mrs.  Whittaker  and 
her  small  portmanteau  had  gone  off  in  a  cab  to  the 
station,  "which  it's  very  funny.  Missus  have  had  no 
letter  from  master  since  the  day  after  he  went  away, 
when  she  had  a  post-card  which  I  took  in  myself  and 
likewise  read,  saying,  'Arrived  safe.  Hope  all  well  at 
home.  Writing  later. '  Which  he  never  have  written 
later.     There  was  no  telegram  for  missus  to-day?" 

"No,"  said  Margaret,  "there's  no  telegram  come 
to  this  house  to-day. ' ' 

' '  Then,  you  know,  missus  might  have  been  rung  up 
on  the  telephone  from  the  office. ' ' 

"She  might,  but  I've  not  heard  her  on  the  tele- 
phone all  day,  and  I've  not  heard  the  telephone  go 
once.    Anyway,  missus  she  have  gone  to  Paris  to  join 


286  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

master,  and  I'm  sure,  poor  lady,  I  hope  she  won't 
find  a  pretty  to-do  when  she  gets  there. ' ' 

It  was  barely  half  an  hour  later  when  Maudie 
Marksby's  motor  brougham  came  spinning  up  to  the 
door  of  the  house  opposite.  ■ 

' '  There 's  Mrs.  Marksby  's  carriage, ' '  said  Margaret, 
craning  her  head  over  the  muslin  blinds  that 
shrouded  the  doings  of  the  kitchen  from  the  passers- 
by.  *'I  wonder  if  missus  told  her  she  was  going  to 
Paris.     Oh,  here  she  comes." 

Maudie  herself,  with  her  gait  of  swimming  impor- 
tance, came  mincing  across  the  road.  Margaret  went 
down  to  the  outer  porch  to  meet  her. 

''Is  my  mother  in,  Margaret!" 

' '  Lor ' !  Mrs.  Marksby,  missus  have  gone  away ! ' ' 

''Away!    Where  V" 

"She's  gone  to  Paris  to  join  master." 

' '  Did  she  have  a  telegram  1 ' ' 

"No,  miss — I  beg  your  pardon,  I  mean  ma'am." 

"Oh — oh — she's  gone  to  Paris,  has  she?  Well,  it's 
no  use  my  waiting  then,  is  it  ? " 

"What  did  she  look  like?"  said  the  cook. 

"She  looked  struck  all  of  a  heap,"  said  Margaret. 
"It's  my  opinion  that  missus  has  taken  French  leave, 
and  she's  going  to  steal  a  march  on  them  both." 

Meanwhile,  Regina,  full  of  her  stern  resolve,  was 
already  on  her  way  to  Dover,  not  being  minded  to 
wait  for  the  regular  boat  train,  and  perhaps  risk  a 
scene  from  one  or  other  of  her  daughters,  finding  her 
on  the  platform  and  attempting  to  dissuade  her  from 
taking  the  fatal  step. 

"I  must  be  firm,  I  must  be  resolute,  I  must  know 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  287 

exactly  what  I'm  going  to  do,"  she  told  herself  as  the 
luxurious  train  whizzed  past  the  suburbs.  "I  will 
have  a  good  dinner  when  I  get  to  Dover;  I  wish  to 
arrive  in  Paris  as  calm  and  unmoved  as  a  rock." 

Now,  take  it  all  round,  this  was  extremely  sensible 
advice  to  give  herself.  Regina  had  a  cup  of  tea  on 
board  the  train.  She  made  a  valiant  effort  to  read 
one  or  two  magazines  which  she  had  with  her,  and 
arrived  at  Dover,  she  went  on  board  the  steamer, 
chose  her  berth,  and  then  went  into  the  town  to  seek 
a  suitable  place  for  dinner.  I  feel  that  it  is  much  to 
her  credit  that  she  chose  the  best  hotel  in  the  town. 
And  yet  it  was  a  very  haggard  and  sad-eyed  Regina 
who  reached  the  terminus  at  Paris.  Still,  she  never 
turned  from  her  resolve.  She  chartered  her  fiacre, 
and  involuntarily,  as  they  drove  down  the  Rue 
Amsterdam,  her  eyes  turned  to  the  wonderful  bazaar 
in  which  in  former  days  she  and  Alfred  had  spent 
some  money  and  a  certain  amount  of  time,  ex- 
periencing at  a  very  small  cost  the  delirious  joy  of 
shopping  in  Paris.  So  on,  through  the  bright  Paris 
streets,  already -teeming  with  life,  and  down  into  the 
heart  of  the  city  where  was  situate  the  hotel  from 
which  Alfred  had  written.  It  was  not  one  at  which 
Regina  had  ever  stayed  herself — no,  it  Avas  small  and 
unpretentious,  with  a  quaint  little  courtyard  adorned 
by  a  few  shrubs  in  square  wooden  boxes  painted  a 
brighter  green  than  the  leaves. 

''Yes,  M.  Vittequere,  he  is  staying  in  the  hotel,"  so 
the  handsome  and  voluble  landlady  informed  her. 

"With  a  lady?"  Regina  asked. 

''Well,"  she  admitted,  there  was  a  lady,  but  she  was 


288  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

not  staying  in  the  hotel;  she  was  not  Mr.  Whittaker's 
wife ;  on  the  contrary,  she  was  a  client,  and  madame 
had  found  her  an  excellent  lodging  in  an  adjacent 
house — one,  in  fact,  belonging  to  the  mother  of 
madame  herself.  "And  she  is  a  Frenchwoman;  she 
knows  her  Paris  well." 

"A  Frenchwoman!"  Regina  echoed.  "And  mon- 
sieur, he  is  risen!" 

"If  monsieur  has  risen  he  is  but  just  descended 
from  his  bedchamber. ' ' 

She  called  to  a  passing  waiter,  and  demanded  to 
know  whether  M.  Whittaker,  numero  treize,  was  yet 
descended. 

"Monsieur  is  at  breakfast  with  madame,"  was  the 
man's  reply. 

The  Frenchwoman,  who  had  taken  in  the  situation 
at  a  glance,  and  knew  from  Regina's  general  appear- 
ance, and  perhaps  especially  from  her  sables,  that 
this  was  the  legitimate  IMadame  Whittaker,  frowned 
at  the  man,  who,  as  Regina  plainly  saw,  cast  about 
mentally  for  a  way  of  retrieving  his  mistake. 

"Show  me  the  way,"  said  Regina.  "No,  it  is  not 
necessary  to  warn  monsieur:  I  know  him  extremely 
well.    Ah,  in  the  sallef    I  will  go  by  myself." 

'^Polisso7i — bete/'  hissed  the  Frenchwoman  in  the 
waiter's  ear.  But  abuse  was  worse  than  useless,  for 
Regina  was  already  sailing,  head  up,  in  the  direction 
of  the  dining-room.  She  made  her  entrance  without 
being  perceived.  Alfred  was,  indeed,  turned  three- 
parts  away  from  the  door  by  which  she  had  entered, 
and  he  was  leaning  over  the  table  studying  some 
papers.    Knowing  him  so  well,  she  perceived  by  his 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  289 

attitude  that  he  was  thoroughly  engrossed  by  busi- 
ness. His  companion,  who  wore  a  hat,  and  who  was 
much  smarter  and  more  Parisian  in  appearance  than 
when  Regina  saw  her  at  the  Trocadero,  was  steadily 
eating  her  breakfast.  At  last,  Alfred  AVhittaker  put 
the  sheet  he  was  reading  down  on  several  others  like 
it,  and  patted  his  hand  upon  it  as  much  as  to  say, 
''That  is  settled  and  done  with,"  upon  which  Regina 
went  forward.  She  gently  laid  her  hand  upon  her 
husband's  shoulder. 

''Alfred,"  she  said  in  a  very  quiet  tone.  I  am 
bound  to  confess  that  Alfred  nearly  jumped  out  of 
his  skin. 

"My  God!  Queenie,  is  that  you?  Oh,  my  dear, 
what  a  turn  you  gave  me.  I'd  no  idea  you  were 
within  a  hundred  miles  of  me.  What's  the  matter?" 
He  sprang  out  of  his  chair  and  held  her  by  both  her 
elbows.  "If  anything 's  the  matter  tell  me  at  once; 
don't  break  it  to  me." 

"Nothing's  the  matter;  I  will  explain  it  to  you 
afterwards — I  wanted  to  come  to  Paris,  and  I  thought 
I  might  as  well  join  you.    Who  is  this  lady  1 ' ' 

The  noble  Alfred  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief, 
gripped  his  wife's  elbows  very  hard  indeed,  and  then 
bent  forward  and  touched  her  lightly  on  either  cheek. 

"This  lady  is  a  client  of  the  firm,"  he  said. 
"Let  me  make  her  known  to  you  —  Madame 
Raumonier. ' ' 

The  Frenchwoman  sprang  to  her  feet,  looking  the 
very  image  of  guilty  surprise.  ' '  This  is  madame  your 
wife?"  she  said,  speaking  excellent  English. 

**This   is  Mrs.   Whittaker,   my  wife.     Sit   down, 

19 


290  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 

Queenie.  Gargon,  gargon,  breakfast  for  madame. 
They  make  an  excellent  omelette  aux  fines  herbes 
here,  Queenie.  Fresh  coffee  for  madame.  Sit  down, 
Madame  Raumonier,  sit  down." 

"You  would  like  to  be  alone  with  madame  your 
wife?" 

''Not  at  all;  I  shall  be  alone  with  her  presently, 
when  you  have  finished  breakfast."  He  turned  back 
to  Regina.  ''Queenie,"  he  said,  "I  can't  tell  you 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  This  just  concludes  the 
business  which  brought  me  over  to  Paris.  I've  had 
the  greatest  difficulty  and  trouble  to  get  things 
settled.  It's  such  a  disadvantage  to  a  man  in  my 
position  not  to  speak  French  well,  and  I  am  in  the 
position  of  not  speaking  French  at  all,  so  I  have  had 
to  do  everything  by  means  of  madame 's  translations, 
and  she  does  not  see  the  legal  aspect  as  I  should  if 
I  could  read  French  as  well  as  she  can.  I  was  going 
to  telegraph  to  you  this  very  day  to  beg  you  to  come 
over.  Some  wave  thought  must  have  warned  you  that 
I  was  thinking  of  it." 

"No,"  said  Regina,  deliberately  sitting  do^vn  by 
the  table,  and  beginning  carefully  to  peel  the  gloves 
off  her  hands.  "No,  Alfred,  I  do  not  think  it  was  a 
wave  thought.      I  wanted  to  come  to  Paris,  and  I 


came. ' ' 


"They  are  all  well  at  home?  You  brought  Julia 
with  you?" 

' '  No,  I  did  not  bring  Julia ;  she  can  come  across  in 
a  few  days  by  herself." 

"Ah,  yes,  we  can  talk  of  that  later." 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  291 

Then  Madame  Raumonier  made  another  effort  to 
escape. 

*'I  am  sure  you  would  like  to  be  alone  with 
madame,  your  wife.  I  have  quite  finished  breakfast. 
If  you  wish  to  see  me  will  you  intimate  tlu*ough 
madame  the  landlady?  May  I  wish  you  good 
morning,  madame?" 

Regina  rose  and  ceremoniously  shook  hands  with 
the  Frenchwoman ;  Alfred  bowed,  followed  her  across 
the  room,  stayed  a  moment  talking,  bowed  again, 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  came  back  with  that  curious 
air  of  a  conqueror  with  which  a  man  meets  a  woman 
who  is  much  to  him  on  all  occasions  after  a  parting. 

"Queenie,  my  darling,  thank  God  that  woman's 
gone.  I  must  apologize  to  you,"  and  here  he  put 
his  hand  over  hers  and  held  it  very  close,  ''I  must 
apologize  to  you  for  having,  of  necessity,  made  her 
known  to  you.  She  is  not  a  person  for  you  to  know ; 
she's — she's  a  woman  with  a  history." 

''Then,  Alfred,"  said  Regina,  not  moving  her  hand, 
but  looking  at  him  with  eyes  which  were  like  the 
eyes  of  the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword.  "Then, 
Alfred,  if  she  is  not  fit  for  me  to  know,  what  does 
she  do  here  with  you  ? ' ' 


292  THE  LITTLE  VANITIES  OF 


CHAPTER     XXXV 

THE  END  OF  IT  ALL 

A  woman  who  can  prove  herself  generous  and  wide-minded  is 
the  woman  who  gets  the  greatest  advantage  in  every  cir- 
cumstance of  life. 

''How  is  it,"  said  Regina,  ''that  she  is  here  with 
you?" 

The  words  dropped  out  one  by  one.  There  was  a 
world  of  torture  and  suffering,  tinged  with  reproach 
and  bitterness,  in  Mrs.  Whittaker's  tones.  Alfred 
Whittaker  gave  a  great  start,  and  drew  his  wife  down 
to  her  seat. 

"Queenie,"  he  said,  "you  haven't  had  it  in  your 
mind  that  that  creature  is  anything  to  me?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  have,"  said  Regina,  and  under  the 
comfort  of  the  word  "creature"  her  voice  took  a 
softer  tone. 

'*That  mixture  of  fire  and  vulgarity!  Oh,  my 
dear! — Come,  come,  you've  been  traveling  all  night, 
you  must  have  your  breakfast.  Here  is  the  finest 
omelette  in  Paris.  I  say,  waiter,  gargon,  try  if  you 
can't  get  madame  a  few  strawberries  to  follow  the 
hifteck  Chateaubriand. — I'm  sure,  Queenie,"  he  went 
on  as  the  waiter  whisked  the  cover  off  and  betook 
himself  away,  "that  a  good  breakfast  is  more  im- 
portant to  you  at  this  moment  than  even  the  state  of 


i  i 
<  < 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  293 

my  morals.  You  see,  I've  had  my  breakfast,  so  you 
can  hear  all  about  Madame  Raumonier  while  you  are 
taking  yours.  Now,  what  could  have  put  it  into 
your  head,  since  you  knew  I  was  over  here  on  her 
business — ' ' 

But  I  didn't,"  said  Regina. 
'  Then  what  made  you  come  ? ' ' 

The  omelette  was  good  and  hot,  and  Regina  took 
two  mouthfuls  before  she  answered. 

''Alfred,"  she  said,  "this  has  been  going  on  for  a 
long  time.     I  know  everything." 

' '  Then  you  are  a  clever  woman.  Now,  what  do  you 
know?" 

"You  bought  her  a  bracelet." 

"I?  I've  never  bought  a  bracelet  for  anyone  but 
you  in  my  life." 

"Well,  Templeton  told  me  so." 

At  this  Alfred  ^¥hittaker  burst  out  laughing.  "I 
did  buy  a  bracelet,  you  are  quite  right,  but  it  was 
for  Mrs.  Chamberlain." 

"You  gave  a  bracelet  to  Mrs.  Chamberlain?"  said 
Regina. 

"No,  no,  no,  I  didn't  do  anything  of  the  kind.  I 
bought  the  bracelet  for  Chamberlain  to  give  his  wife. 
Chamberlain  had  been  in  an  extremely  ugly  corner 
for  some  time  past.  I  didn't  tell  you  anything  about 
it,  because  I  thought  it  more  than  likely  that  Mrs. 
Chamberlain  might  come  round  pumping  you.  If 
you  didn't  know  anything,  I  felt  you  wouldn't  be 
able  to  tell  her  anything. ' ' 

"Surely  you  might  have  trusted  me?" 

"It  isn't  that  I  couldn't  trust  you,  for  I  can  and 


294  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

always  have  done.  As  it  happened,  Mrs.  Chamberlain 
wa^,  as  you  know,  by  way  of  being  an  heiress,  and 
Chamberlain  was  ridiculously  in  love. ' ' 

"Can  a  man  be  ridiculously  in  love?"  put  in 
Reg'ina. 

"Yes,  very  much  so.  When  I  married  you  I  told 
.you  everything  that  had  happened  to  me,  good,  bad 
and  indifferent — Chamberlain  didn't,  and  Mrs. 
Chamberlain  is  possessed  of  a  demon  of  jealousy.  She 
got  fixed  in  her  silly  little  head  that  Chamberlain  had 
been  a  sort  of  King  Arthur  until  she  met  him.  A 
moment's  reflection  would  have  told  the  silly  little 
fool  that  the  less  she  inquired  into  her  husband's 
past  the  better,  and  Chamberlain  was  so  much  in  love 
with  her,  and  in  such  a  hurry  to  catch  the  little 
heiress,  that  he  did  not  completely  sever  ties  that  he 
had  contracted  previously,  and  trusted  to  luck  to  go 
on  shelling  out  to  this  Frenchwoman  who  had  had 
an  affair  with  him  lasting  some  years  before  his 
marriage.  The  French  lady  did  not  like  being  put  on 
short  commons,  still  less  did  she  like  being  pensioned 
off,  and  she  began  to  make  herself  unpleasant.  Poor 
old  Chamberlain  got  himself  into  an  awful  muddle, 
and  confided  everything  to  me.  I  thought  him  a  fool, 
and  I  told  him  so  very  plainly;  but  he's  my  partner, 
and  I  couldn't  refuse  to  help  him  out.  The  day  that 
I  went  to  Templeton's  and  brought  that  bracelet, 
Chamberlain  went  in  quite  a  different  direction  to 
have  an  interview  with  Madame  Raumonier  and  try 
to  bring  her  to  reason.  At  that  time  Mrs.  Chamber- 
lain used  to  make  stringent  inquiries  as  to  how  he 
had  spent  Qvery  moment  of  his  time.    As  a  matter  of 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  295 

fact  she  h&d  come  to  the  office  for  him  that  very  day, 
and  was  told  that  he  had  already  gone.  When  he 
got  home  she  was  told  some  necessary  and  harmless 
lies  to  the  effect  that  he  had  been  to  Templeton's  to 
buy  her  a  bracelet.  Heaven  only  knows  what  would 
have  happened  if  she  had  found  out  that  Chamberlain 
had  never  been  near  Templeton's." 

''But  why  were  you  dragged  into  it?" 

'  *  Oh,  I  was  trying  to  get  a  settlement. ' ' 

*'Why  did  you  bring  her  to  Paris?" 

*'Well,  it  was  like  this.  Chamberlain  and  I  finally 
agreed  between  oui^elves  that  the  only  way  to  get 
a  settlement  of  the  affair  was  to  provide  Madame 
Raumonier  with  an  income  sufficient  to  live  upon  for 
the  rest  of  her  life.  He  didn't  grudge  that,  he's 
not  a  mean  man,  and  he  offered  to  settle  five  pounds 
a  week  upon  her  on  one  condition:  that  she  cleared 
out  of  England  and  never  crossed  the  Channel  again. 

"Oh,  I  see.  But  why  did  you  have  to  come  to 
Paris  to  settle  that?" 

"My  dear  child,  Madame  Raumonier  is  no  fool. 
She  had  no  notion  of  being  cut  adrift  from  Chamber- 
lain and  left  stranded  at  her  age— she  must  be  at 
least  five-and-thirty— without  the  certainty  of  a  pro- 
vision being  made  for  her.  I  took  her  out  to  dinner 
one  night — dined  at  the  Trocadero — " 

"Yes,  I  saw  you,"  said  Regina. 

"What!" 

"I  was  there." 

"You  were  dining  at  the  Trocadero  the  night  I 
took  Madame  Raumonier  there?" 

"I  was." 


296  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES   OF 

' '  And  you  never  told  me ! " 

*'No,  Alfred,  I  never  told  you."  Reg'ina  finished 
the  last  bit  of  omelette  with  relish,  and  sat  back  in 
her  chair  and  waited  for  the  rest  of  the  story. 

"You  never  told  me!"  repeated  Alfred.  ''You 
cooked  it  up — ^you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  thought 
I  was  dining  with  her  on  my  own  account?" 

"What  else  was  I  to  think?" 

"Who  were  you  dining  with?" 

"I  was  not  dining  with  a  gentleman,  at  least  not 
by  myself,"  said  Regina.  "Julia  and  I  were  dining 
with  Maudie  and  Harry. ' ' 

"And  they  saw—?" 

"They  did." 

"And  they  thought—?" 

"They  did." 

' '  That  I  was  dining  on  my  own  with  that  creature ! 
I  never  felt  so  insulted  in  my  life. ' ' 

"Insulted,  Alfred?" 

"Insulted,  Queenie.  When  I  take  to  dining  ladies 
on  my  own,  they  shall  be  women  who  are  something 
to  .look  at.  Damn  it  all!"  he  went  on,  "I've  been 
accustomed  to  taking  a  smart  woman  about.  This  crea- 
ture wasn't  even  amusing,  and  what's  more,  she's  the 
least  French  of  any  Frenchwoman  I  ever  came  across 
in  my  life." 

"Well,  go  on.    You  were  telling  me — ?" 

' ''  Oh,  I  don 't  know  what  I  was  telling  you — I  don 't 
know  what  I  was  telling  you.  Oh,  well,  I  know,  I 
was  telling  you  about  dining  her  at  the  Trocadero. 
Yes,  she  was  willing  enough  to  have  the  settlement, 
she  was  willing  enough  to  go  back  to  her  beloved 


MRS.    WHITTAKER  297 

France:  she  hated  London  and  everything  in  it — 
didn't  know  why  she  ever  left  sunny  France.  But 
like  all  Frenchwomen,  she  was  a  woman  of  business, 
and  she  didn't  mean  to  leave  go  her  hold  upon  poor 
old  Chamberlain  unless  her  settlement  was  perfectly 
secure.  My  dear,  if  she  had  been  a  lawyer  fifty 
times  over  she  couldn't  have  been  sharper  at  her 
job." 

"I  don't  blame  her,"  said  Regina,  ''I  never  blame 
a  woman  for  getting  the  better  of  a  man." 

"Yes,  I  know,  my  dear,  you  always  held  that 
opinion.  But  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  was  that 
she  would  accept  nothing  but  a  definite  settlement  in 
Paris,  and  I  can  tell  you,  even  when  you  come  over 
with  the  money  in  your  hand,  it's  not  such  a  simple 
matter  as  it  would  seem  to  arrange  a  bit  of  business 
in  this  land  of  liberty,  equality  and  brotherhood. 
From  the  way  these  people  have  spun  it  out  one 
would  have  thought  that  I  was  getting  something  out 
of  them,  instead  of  making  an  ample  settlement  on 
one  of  their  countrywomen.  And  the  funniest  part 
of  the  whole  thing  has  been  that  every  one  of  them 
thinks  that  Chamberlain  and  I  are  one  and  the  same 
person.  Gad !  You  thought  so  too !  My  dear, ' '  put- 
ting his  hand  on  the  papers  again,  "this  is  the  final 
note;  this  will  be  signed  this  afternoon;  I  shall  hand 
Madame  Raumonier  bank-notes  for  a  hundred 
pounds,  and  then  I  shall  wash  my  hands  of  her  alto- 
gether for  good  and  all." 

For  a  moment  Regina  did  not  speak,  but  applied 
her  attention  entirely  to  the  very  excellent  hifteck  on 


298  THE    LITTLE    VANITIES    OF 

her  plate.     Then  she  looked  up  at  her  husband  with 
penitent  eyes. 

"Alfred,"  she  said,  **I  really  feel  I  ought  to 
apologize  to  you." 

"Apologize?"  said  Alfred,  "apologize?  Nay,  if 
any  apology  is  needed  it  is  from  me  to  you  for 
having  apparently  given  you  cause  for  uneasiness; 
but,  thank  God !  Queenie,  there  is  no  need  of  apology 
on  either  side.  There's  been  a  little  misapprehension, 
but  it's  all  over  now,  and  we  are  as  much  together 
again  as  we  were  when  we  set  out  on  our  honeymoon. 
Did  it  make  you  very  miserable,  Queenie  ? "  He  laid 
his  hand  on  hers  as  he  spoke,  and  Regina  looked  up 
at  him  with  shining  eyes. 

"  I  've  been  so  miserable,  Alfred, ' '  she  said,  ' '  that  I 
almost  wished  I  could  die,  and  I  think  I  should  have 
died  or  put  myself  out  of  the  road — or  something — 
if  I  hadn't  resolved  to  win  you  back  at  any  cost" 

"But  you  are  satisfied  now?" 

"Satisfied!  Oh,  I'm  so  happy — so  happy.  I'll 
never  let  such  a  cloud  come  between  us — next  time 
I'll  tell  you  the  very  first  suspicion  that  crosses  my 
mind. ' ' 

' '  There  isn  't  going  to  be  a  next  time, ' '  said  Alfred. 
"Poor  old  Chamberlain!  he's  come  to  the  end  of  his 
tether  now." 

"Alfred,"  said  Regina,  after  a  long  pause,  "I 
don't  think  I  would  waste  any  pity  on  'poor  old 
Chamberlain';  it  seems  to  me  that  he  has  met  with 
more  than  his  deserts.  If  I  have  any  feeling  of 
pity  for  any  of  the  three  it  is  for  the  unfortunate 
Frenchwoman  who  trusted  him  where  he  was  not  fit 


MRS.  WHITTAKER  299 

to  be  trusted.  These  people  in  the  hotel  thought  I 
was  going  to  spring  a  mine  upon  you;  I  saw  the 
landlady  frown  at  the  waiter  when  he  said  you  were 
breakfasting  together.  I  have  always  been  a  wide- 
minded  woman,  Alfred,  and  I  am  a  very  happy  one 
this  morning.  Let  us  ask  Madame  Raumonier  to  join 
us  to-night  by  way  of  celebrating  the  settlement  of 
her  affairs." 

For  a  moment  Alfred  did  not — indeed,  could  not — 
speak. 

''Queenie,"  he  said,  "I  have  always  admired  you, 
I  have  always  loved  you,  but  this  morning,  at  this 
moment,  I  feel  that,  compared  with  you  in  your 
benevolence,  your  real  wide-mindedness,  I  am  a  mere 
worm. ' ' 

''My  noble  Alfred!"  said  Regina,  ''my  noble 
Alfred!" 


THE  END 


LOVE  AND  THE 
SOUL  HUNTERS 

By  John  Oliver  Hobbes 

Author  ef'The  Godsy  Some  Morals,  and  Lord  fyickenharriy^* 

'^Tbe  Herb  Moon;'  "  Schools  for  Saints^' 

^^ Robert  Grange ;'  etc.,  etc. 

TN  this  new  novel  Mrs.  Craigie  (John  Oliver 
-*•  Hobbes)  has  made,  according  to  her  own 
statement,  the  great  effort  of  her  life.  It  is  the 
most  brilliant  creation  of  an  author  whose  talent  and 
versatility  have  surprised  readers  and  critics  in  both 
Europe  and  America  for  several  years.  It  treats  of 
unique  examples  of  human  nature  as  they  are,  and 
not  merely  as  they  ought  to  be.  Swayed  by  com- 
plex motives,  they  are  always  attractive,  but  often 
do  what  is  least  expected  of  them.  The  story  is 
graphically  told,  and  is  full  of  action.  Each  per- 
sonage is  distinctively  drawn  to  the  life. 

"  There  is  much  that  is  worth  remembering  in  her  writings." 
— Mail  and  Express,  New  York. 

"More  than  any  other  woman  who  is  now  writing,  Mrs. 
Craigie  is,  in  the  true  manly  sense,  a  woman  of  letters.  She 
is  not  a  woman  with  a  few  personal  emotions  to  express  :  she 
is  what  a  woman  so  rarely  is — an  artist." — The  Star,  London. 

"  Few  English  writers  have  so  lapidarian  a  style  of  writing  as 
Mrs.  Craigie,  and  few  such  a  capacity  for  writing  epigrams." — 
TAe  Toronto  Globe. 

l2mo.  Cloth.     $1.^0 


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NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 


A  BRILLIANT  SAT  IRE  ON  MILITARISM 

CAPTAIN  JINKS,  HERO 

By   Ernest   Crosby 


A  SATIRICAL  novel  based  on  the  military  history 
-^^  of  the  United  States  since  the  outbreak  of  the 
Spanish  War.  It  is  a  smiting  denunciation  of 
militarism  and  the  military  spirit,  and  a  biting  bur- 
lesque on  cheap  hero  worship.  The  parallel  between 
savagery  and  soldiery  is  unerringly  drawn.  It  is  full 
of  wit  and  sarcasm. 

The  Philadelphia  Item,  March  8:  "  It  is  the  best  bit 
of  satire  that  has  seen  the  light  for  years.  It  is  more 
than  clever  :  it  is  brilliant.  Its  sarcasm  is  like  pointed 
steel,  while  its  humor  is  of  the  most  rollicking  order. 
In  fact,  it  is  hilarious  with  fun,  while  its  pungency  in 
satire  is  remarkable  for  keenness,  and  for  the  incisive 
way  in  which  every  point  is  driven  home." 

Worcester  Spy ,  Worcester,  Mass.,  March  9 :  "Beard's 
illustrations  are  equally  clever  and  original,  the  best 
th'.t  he  has  ever  made.  As  a  collection  of  cartoons 
alone  the  book  should  make  a  hit." 


Twenty-five  Clever  Drawings  by  Dan  Beard.    J2mo,  Cloth.    Omo' 
mental  Cover.    Price,  $1.50,  post-paid. 


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Sl  Louis  Globe-Democrat :  **It  is  a  simple,  gen- 
tle, quietly-humorous  narrative,  with  several  love 
affairs  in  it.'* 

UNDER  MY 

OWN  ROOF 

By    Adelaide    L.     Rouse 

Author   of   **  The    Deane    Gir/s,^*     "  ?Festo'ver    House,^^    etc. 

A  STORY  of  a  **  nesting  impulse  "  and  what  came  of  it. 
A  newspaper  woman  determines  to  build  a  home  for 
herself  in  a  Jersey  suburb.  The  story  of  its  planning  is 
delightfully  told,  simply  and  with  a  literary-humorous  flavor 
that  will  appeal  to  lovers  of  books  and  of  the  fireside. 

Before  the  house-building  details  are  allowed  to  tire  the 
reader,  a  love  story  is  begun,  and  catches  the  interest.  It 
concerns  the  home-builder,  an  old  flame,  and  an  old  friend,  the 
third  of  whom  has  become  a  next-door  neighbor.  With  this 
romance  are  entwined  a  number  of  heart  affairs  as  well  as  warm 
friendships. 

The  style  is  bright,  and  the  humor  genial  and  pervasive. 
The  "literary  worker"  and  the  **  suburbanite "  particularly 
will  enjoy  the  book.  Women  of  culture  everywhere  should 
appreciate  its  delicate  style. 


Illustrations  by  Harrie  A.  Stoner.      i2mo.  Cloth. 
Price,  $1.20,  net;  postage,  13  cents. 


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THE   HOUR-GLASS  STORIES 

A   Seriei    of  Entertaining    Novelettes 

Illustrated  and  Issued  in  Dainty  Dress. 

Small  i2mo,  ornamental  covers.      Illustrated.     Price,  40  cents 

per  volume.      Postage,  5  cents. 

THE  COURTSHIP  of 

SWEET  ANNE   PAGE 

By  Ellen  V.  Talbot 
A  brisk,  dainty  little  love  story  incidental  to  **  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,"  full  of  fun  and  frolic  and  telling  of  the 
courtship  of  Sweet  Anne  Page  by  the  three  lovers  :  Abraham 
Slender,  the  tallow-faced  gawk,  chosen  by  her  father;  Dr. 
Caius,  the  garlic-scented  favorite  of  her  mother ;  and  the 
"gallant  Fenton,"  the  choice  of  her  own  wilful  self. 


II. 

THE    SANDALS 

By  Rev.  Z.  Grenell 
A  beautiful  little  idyl  of  sacred  story  about  the  sandals  of 
Christ.  It  tells  of  their  wanderings  and  who  were  their 
wearers,  from  the  time  that  they  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  Roman 
soldier  when  Christ's  garments  were  parted  among  his  crucifiers 
to  the  day  when  they  came  back  to  Mary,  the  Mother  of  Jesus. 
The  book  exhibits  both  strength  and  beauty  of  literary  style. 

III. 

THE  TRANSFIGURATION 

of  MISS  PHILURA 

By    Florence    Morse     Kingsley 

Author  of'-'-  Titus^^'  "  Prisoners  of  the  Sea,'"  etc. 

An  entertaining  story  woven  around  the  *'  New  Thought," 
which  is  finding  expression  in  Christian  Science,  Divine  Heal- 
ing, etc.,  in  the  course  of  which  Miss  Philura  makes  drafts 
upon  the  All-Encircling  Good  for  a  husband  and  various  other 
things,  and  the  All-Encircling  Good  does  not  disappoint  her. 

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